


Names

by blueblack-poked-stars (delicate_mageflower)



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Bipolar Shepard, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Colonist (Mass Effect), Crew as Family, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Infidelity, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Substance Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Jewish Shepard, Kaidan is autistic (fight me), Kaidan's Family - Freeform, Life After 2186 - Freeform, Neurodiversity, Other, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Shepard's Family - Freeform, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Synthesis Ending, complicated pregnancy, implied/referenced eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicate_mageflower/pseuds/blueblack-poked-stars
Summary: They didn't know they could still be surprised. They didn't know even miracles could be so remarkable.





	1. Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khintress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khintress/gifts).



> I was originally planning on saving this for after the completion of Lady Lazarus, but I decided instead to challenge myself to have it completed in time for Shepard's birthday, so here we are and I will be regularly posting new chapters until then, saving the last for April 11th!
> 
> Dedicated to Khintress simply for being Khintress, _**but**_ quite importantly, I also very strongly need to single out [Kittyhawk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittyhawk) for being almost entirely to blame for sparking this whole thing to begin with.
> 
> Also necessary shoutouts to [fereldandoglords](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldandoglords) for helping me name my canon of Kaidan's parents when I introduced them in Lady Lazarus, as well as for helping me settle on a title for this work (among many, many other things). I would also like to call out [the_open_future](http://archiveofourown.org/users/the_open_future) for always being wonderful and supportive, along with [EllsterSMASH](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EllsterSMASH) and [faithlessone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone) for cheering for me in getting this done in time to meet my goal! Y'all are too good to me (and anyone who isn't reading every last one of their works needs to do themselves a favor and get on that, as they are all absolutely brilliant!). <33
> 
> Anyway, happy -136th birthday, Commander!

Carrie Shepard and Kaidan Alenko are happy.

As happy as they ever will be, at least. They have their ups and downs, just like anyone, although theirs tend to be more drastic on an individual scale given both of their struggles with their neuroatypicalities.

But they are always there for each other, always there to offer support and understanding. No matter what, they will always have each others’ backs.

In the years since the Reaper War has ended, their lives are likely as “normal” as either of them could ever hope for. Long nights filled with terror and tears have never ceased, but they have eased some throughout the passage of time. Frequency and severity have subsided, and while there are many wounds time cannot heal, time adds perspective. All they’ve lost, all they’ve suffered…it isn’t right to say that isn’t hard, even after all this time, because it is. But it helps to have each other. And sometimes, that simply has to be enough.

It has been over five years since the last days of the Reaper War, and life has reached a strange sense of calm. Friends that have become family come and go, but they all keep in touch. Sometimes they visit, sometimes Shepard and Kaidan visit them. They’ve never lost that connection, though. They never will.

The damage that Shepard has endured as a result of activating the Crucible is one she has managed to resign to. She and Kaidan both know what it is like to live a life of constant aches and pains, but they get by. It is not exactly something one ever truly grows accustomed to, but they live. And at least they have each other, and that can be enough.

It is a terrifying day, however, when Shepard abruptly wakes up and immediately has to run to the bathroom, violently heaving the second her knees hit the floor. She regrets letting her hair grow out, even though she hasn’t had a reason to maintain it otherwise since she left active duty.

He startles upright as soon as she does, hearing the sound of the door closing behind her and her body slamming to the ground, followed by those desperate gags and gasps that his migraines have forced him to become all too familiar with.

His eyes fix on the door, watching and waiting being the only course of action he can reasonably take until she returns.

It’s been quieter between them as time’s gone on. Perhaps they’ve gotten used to it, perhaps that explains the instant burst of panic in his chest.

He clutches a blanket, forcing patience.

She hasn’t felt like this since some of her particularly bad patches on Omega back in 2185, another lifetime ago it seems, when she’d find herself on the floor of bathroom stalls in Afterlife, sobbing and choking on the stench of volus bina.

This, however, is obviously not of the same origin, and neither she nor Kaidan know what to make of it.

Both of them fear the worst: are her Cerberus implants rejecting, or is this some unforeseen side effect of melding with the Catalyst that had delayed somehow, or is it maybe as simple as all this borrowed time she’s been living on finally running out?

She feels like she’s on fire, and all of this added stress is sending her everyday pain into a flare.

She’s ready to get up, though, unable to so much as attempt a guess at how much time has passed. She forces herself to move, to get herself cleaned up as well as she is able to.

“Kaidan,” she calls out hoarsely, tears catching in her throat. She leans into the sink, knuckles turning white from holding herself up. Her stomach is yet turning, but for the moment she no longer feels like she is urgently going to be sick. Her head is throbbing. 

He’s up the moment she utters his name. He barely hears her, but he’d been listening too intently to miss it.

He rushes to the bathroom door, and when it opens she turns on her heels and thrusts herself into him, breaking into harsh sobs the second their bodies meet. His arms wrap around her, and they are both shaken and unsteady.

Her head is spinning and her whole body aches even moreso than usual. She doesn’t know how she’s holding herself up at all, pondering if perhaps Kaidan is doing more work to keep her standing than she’d thought.

She feels boneless, as though she’s ready to slip right out of his grasp, so he grips her tighter. He tries his best not to let on that he’s barely keeping himself together. It’s true that her body has never recovered from the near-sacrifice she’d made with the Catalyst, but she has not been so aggressively symptomatic in years.

“It’s okay,” he wants to convince himself as much as he wants to convince her. “Come on.”

He helps her get back into bed, but he does not lie down with her. Instead he remains sitting, and her head rests in his lap as he affectionately runs his fingers through her hair.

“I’m going to call Karin, okay?” His voice is soft, and she easily hears the blatant effort he puts into concealing the fear behind it.

“Okay.” She hardly even manages a whisper, but she is the only thing he can focus on. She is the only thing he sees, hears, feels.

He is terrified, and she doesn’t know what to do.

His hand extends towards her back, continues to move up and down, his touch soothing and safe, although she can feel that he is shaking almost as hard as she.

Karin does not ask questions, does not hesitate to tell them she’s on her way. She has given up everything since Shepard came back. She’s left space travel and active soldiers behind, settled down in Vancouver, working in an Alliance veterans hospital. She appears to be happy, she seems genuinely content with where she is and what she’s doing, but it is no secret who she has done it for. She has been so much like a mother to Shepard over the years, and this is no exception.

It does not even occur to Kaidan to run a scan of his own, to make use of his medical training. He can’t think of anything beyond keeping the both of them calm, of staying present with her.

Otherwise his mind swiftly wanders towards calling his parents, to turning to them after losing the woman he loves. _Again._

It would be even harder now, too, that they know her, that they love her as much as he had always known they would. This time they would not only feel sadness out of sympathy; this time, they would be nearly as devastated as he, and for their own sakes.

In a moment, he will also call in to cancel all of his classes for the day. In a moment. But first, all that matters is to touch her, to keep her close. All that matters is her.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “It’s okay, Carrie, it’s…it’s okay.”

_It has to be okay._

***

“Shepard,” Karin says nervously, omni-tool alight and buzzing with swarms of data.

Even after all this time, she still won’t use Shepard’s first name. Even after all this time, Kaidan and his parents are the only ones who bear that honor.

Shepard feels like fresh hell, and she can’t force herself to look at anyone. She takes comfort in running her right index finger along the beautiful bright blue stone of her engagement ring, her most cherished possession. It is more than a symbol of her relationship with Kaidan, as though that wasn’t enough. Having been passed from Kahlee to Jack to Kaidan, having once been Anderson’s to give…so much lives in that ring, so much lost and found all in one.

Kaidan, himself, moves again to lightly rubbing her back, this time with her sitting beside him, his motions aimless but grounding.

“What is it?” Kaidan follows in Shepard’s place, when she cannot figure out how to speak for herself.

“I’m surprised at _you,_ Kaidan,” Karin offers a strange smile. “You should have caught this one, yourself.”

A thought strikes him, so obvious but simultaneously so far outside the realm of possibility—or so they had believed, or so they had never even bothered to question as hard fact.

So obvious, yes, or it would be if she were anyone else. But it strikes him all the same, even though he is certain it can’t be…but _can it?_

“You never will stop surprising us, will you, Shepard?” Karin continues, smile not yet fading. “You’re pregnant.”

“What?” She looks up at that, her eyes wide. “But I thought…I mean, Miranda can’t—”

“You’re not Miranda,” Karin states matter-of-factly. “Your resurrection may have been of a similar construction, but your base genetic structures would be completely different. And I’m sure Andrea will welcome her new cousin with utmost enthusiasm.”

It’s true, Miranda’s daughter is still so young but already so precocious, already so ahead of her age. But of course she would be, she’s Miranda’s. And with all the time she spends with Jacob’s kids, the galaxy is certainly in for it in a couple of decades.

And now, apparently, Shepard and Kaidan will be contributing.

They’d had this conversation, not too long after her miraculous second return to life but long enough before their wedding. Neither had ever truly figured out where they stood, but they had stood in such uncertainty together.

But such uncertainty is no longer an option. Wonders never cease, evidently.

“Wow,” Kaidan says under his breath. He is grateful, he is so beyond grateful for as bad as he’d worried this could have been, it’s... _this._ But he is also yet nervous, now in an entirely different way, because he has no idea what this means for them. He has no idea what Shepard wants, neither does he know exactly what she can _handle._

It is going to be a risky endeavor if they follow through with this, of that he has no doubt. But he wants it, he realizes as it sinks in. He genuinely wants this.

What _she_ wants, however, what she _needs_ is still his highest priority.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he makes himself say. He is so gentle, as ready as he can be for whatever answer she has.

“How is this…how is this going to _work?”_ She looks directly at Karin, and she is suddenly holding onto Kaidan’s arm as tight as she can. “I mean, for…for me. This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“Doubtful,” Karin responds bluntly without missing a beat. “Then again, neither was saving the galaxy from the Reapers, was it?”

“Karin…” Shepard trails off before reaching some sort of snide comment, whatever precisely she’s looking for eluding her. She cannot help but smile, though, at the way Karin is dealing with her in this, how maternal she has always been with her.

That’s when it hits Shepard, when it all crashes down on her that she actually wants this. It scares the hell out of her to think about what all this will mean, the toll it will take on her body and all the responsibility it entails, but _she wants this._

She’s always said that Kaidan would be a great dad. She can only hope that she’s as up for the challenges of parenthood as she fully believes he is.

“We have some calls to make, don’t we?” Shepard shifts her eyes towards Kaidan when any follow up to Karin still does not come. _“A lot_ of calls. Your parents first, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kaidan says eagerly. “Yeah, definitely, we…”

“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Karin tells them, and she sounds every bit as happy for them as she feels. After all, she will not say how her heart had leapt out of her chest when she received Kaidan’s call, how her mind had gravitated towards the worst just as much as theirs had. Because that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that Shepard is okay, and that she continues to stand as the miracle that never quits.

“No, no,” Shepard insists. “Please, stay for a drink, or—well, maybe not for me…oh shit…”

“Come by later for dinner,” Kaidan interjects. “I’ll cook. Around 7:00?”

“I’ll be here,” Karin replies.

Kaidan sees her out, both of them unable to hold back how excited they are for the news once Shepard is out of earshot. Neither of them are sure why they feel the need to tread so delicately in Shepard’s presence, but it has always been a challenge not to treat her like she’s made of glass—physically or emotionally—for as long as she’s been in this house.

It’s okay, though. Now they are sure, it’s okay.

“Your parents are going to flip their shit, aren’t they?” Shepard chuckles when Kaidan walks back into the room.

“Oh yeah,” Kaidan admits. “This should be…interesting.”

“Karin _is_ coming back tonight, right?” Shepard suddenly looks and sounds so small.

“Yeah, of course,” Kaidan assures her. “Why?”

“I just…I’m scared,” she confesses. “I have so many questions, so much…”

“She’ll be there for us, no matter what,” he tells her. “You know that.”

“I know,” she affirms. “Maybe Kelly…”

“Yeah,” Kaidan agrees. “Yeah, good call.”

“But parents first.”

“Parents first.”

***

Kaidan’s parents were elated when they heard the news. Both of them immediately took to knitting baby size blankets and socks and sweaters, adding them to the normal array of hats and scarves and adult size versions of those blankets and socks and sweaters they always have ready and waiting for Kaidan and Shepard whenever they visit.

“Have any ideas for names yet?” Kaidan’s father asks the very first time he sees them after learning that their family is about to get bigger.

“Dad, we have _months_ left to worry about that,” Kaidan replies. “We’re taking it slow.”

That much has been true. It’s only been a couple of weeks since they learned, and most of their time has been spent keeping track of health. Shepard has already had her fill of vitamins for the rest of her life, absolutely deluged by pills supplied by Karin. They were afraid to even take this trip at all, only an hour’s drive away but leaving enough worry about how much time that could be for something to go wrong. She is always tired and frequently sick, and she can already no longer remember a time when her head wasn’t perpetually spinning. Karin keeps a close eye on her, with Kaidan monitoring as much as he can when she’s not around. Shepard isn’t supposed to—or more like _allowed to,_ or at least that’s how it feels to her—spend any more time out of bed than necessary, and Karin was not exactly thrilled about them leaving the city even for a day.

And the pain has been astronomical, even by the standards of her life post-synthesis, and she hasn’t been able to use her cane as a result of the aches she has all over, how weak that has left her, how fragile it makes her feel. She is as unsteady as ever without it, and the effect this has had on her mobility leaves her oft confined to their bedroom whether under doctor’s orders or not.

So it’s nice to get away for a little while, although Kaidan’s parents are every bit as doting as Karin, as well as every bit as much as James and Kelly since they have returned to their home away from home.

Miranda and Oriana sent flowers. Jacob and Brynn sent a lovely email with photos of their Nesiah and Horace sitting together with Andrea at a playground, stating that they can’t wait for the new addition. Jack has offered to cover for Kaidan at the Vancouver Ascension Project School any time he needs. Steve sent a large package of chocolate hamantaschen and promises to see them soon, the latter also promised by Joker and Edi.

James and Kelly, on the other hand, wasted no time, and are at the house catching up with Karin while Shepard and Kaidan are in Maple Ridge.

“Feeling alright, Carrie?” Kaidan’s mother checks in. “Would you like some tea?”

“No and yes, please,” Shepard laughs. “Thank you, Vanessa.”

“Anything you need, and I mean _anything,_ you let us know,” she follows.

“I know,” Kaidan says quickly. “Thanks, Mom.”

Karin has estimated that she’s only about six weeks in, that the unpredictability of her post-war body and how reactionary it can be is likely somehow responsible for her symptoms manifesting so early. And while she isn’t at all showing yet, it’s been days since she could force herself into anything other than yoga pants. But with everything else…

She has a long way to go.

And she is so grateful to have her families to help.

“It’s a tradition for you to name after those who’ve come before, isn’t it?” Kaidan’s father asks Shepard directly.

“Dad, please,” Kaidan tries on her behalf, but she only laughs.

“Yes, after those who’ve passed on,” Shepard tells him. “So no, Yevheniy, we are _not_ naming any kids after you any time soon, okay.”

“Alright, I get it,” he concedes with a bright smile, such a striking resemblance of which he had passed along to Kaidan. “Carrie, are you comfortable? Do you need any pillows or anything?”

“Do I look that bad?” Shepard snickers, but she knows she very well may not. The first time she ever entered this house, she’d taken her cane with her and they never made a deal of it but have always been ready and willing to accommodate her. The very first time she ever met these people, they immediately saw how much she struggles, and they have never looked at her any differently.

They care about her, that’s all. They’ve been so good to her, and she has never for a moment doubted whether she belongs here with them.

“Not at all,” Yevheniy smiles again, and Vanessa is close behind with that tea she offered. “But if you do…”

“I know,” Shepard nods. “I know, thank you.”

***

Shepard is sobbing in the passenger’s seat on the ride back to the city. It came from nowhere, and neither of Kaidan’s parents had anything but kindness for her on their way out the door. She wants one of those big soft blankets they’d made for her and Kaidan, but everything they were gifted this visit sits in the backseat as she is too afraid of getting sick to keep anything with her until they get home.

“They’re just going to have to visit _us_ next time,” Kaidan says, attempting to calm her down.

She holds her head in her hands, at a loss. There is no reason for her to be so upset; nothing has happened and her mental health has become notably less unpredictable and catastrophic over the past few years. 

She heard Kaidan’s mother say that this is normal, though. It is a strange concept, the idea of a random breakdown for her being a normal part of anything.

She’s glad Kelly will be there for her when they get home. Kelly is probably the person she needs to talk to most right now, right up there with Karin. 

Kelly, an exceptional testimony to the unconventional nature of Shepard’s interpersonal relationships. Shepard had gone from actively seeking to dislike Kelly to becoming good friends, and then to building a romantic tension that ended with their sleeping together and then back to being good friends with legitimately no awkwardness whatsoever. And after the war, Kelly used her psych background to help Shepard through the worst of it, to _finally_ get her talking to a professional as she’d needed to do for so long (even if it was in a most unprofessional dynamic). 

And she is going to need Kelly now, more than she has in a long time.

And it’s always damn good to see James again, too.

“We’ll be home soon,” Kaidan says. “It’s okay.”

It’s okay. It’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note that I have made a strong point to write this so that reading [Lady Lazarus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478094/chapters/23118300) is not necessary, especially since it is yet a WIP, but I would still recommend it. I therefore also did my best to include details of my canon universe while making it not annoying to read for both anyone who might be new to Carrie and those who are already familiar with her.
> 
> Oh and one more big shoutout, with much love to [Cinnamages](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamages) for inadvertently inspiring the knitting thing. :)


	2. Family

“How the fuck are there so many humans in the galaxy?” Shepard’s question is obviously rhetorical, fueled by pain and a constant emotional rollercoaster. “Making them is terrible.”

“I don’t know, I think you enjoyed some of the process,” Kaidan replies with a smirk.

She lies on her back, too nauseated to move. Her head is killing her and she could swear the very air around her has a scent, and it is not a pleasant one.

It’s only two months in.

She’s dreaming like she used to, like she did when she first came back from the war. She’s dreaming so vividly of those she’s left behind, of how much better she could have done. She spends her nights wading through fog in dark, damp forests.

Not that her night terrors had ever gone away, but they had finally started getting better.

She just has to remember that this is normal. That for once, nearly all the worst of what she is going through is completely within the realm of the ordinary.

“Yeah,” she smiles back at him. “I sure did.”

“Can I get you anything?” he offers, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Stay with me?” she practically whimpers, she hates so much that he still has to work right now.

“It’s only a few hours,” he assures her. He’s been taking as many half-days as he can, but he’s already called in more than his fair share of favors with the brass. He gets them, he gets them every damn time and he knows exactly who he really gets those favors for, but he doesn’t want to push his luck all the same.

Kaidan is doing what he’s meant to be doing, Shepard knows that, and she doesn’t truly want to keep him away from his work any more than she wants to deprive his students of him.

“I know,” she says quietly. “I know. Have a good day, okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he tells her. “Call me if you need anything. _Anything._ Karin and Kelly and James are here, though, too.”

“Did they all take their old rooms back?” Shepard laughs as delicately as she can, and it is still enough to make her stomach turn.

“They did, yeah,” he replies easily. It’s true, they all but have assigned rooms on permanent reserve for them by now.

It’s good to be able to keep their family so close.

“I want to see them,” she follows. She doesn’t want to be alone, that’s the bigger concern, but there aren’t many others (aside from Kaidan) she would rather fight off loneliness with.

It won’t be long until _everyone_ starts pouring in, too, they both know that well enough. After she came back from the war, yet another unexplained miracle, their house was full for months to celebrate her survival. And they’ll all want to be close to her again, probably even all as worried about her as they were before, as well.

“They want to see you, too,” he says. “Just…take it easy, alright.”

“Yes, sir, Admiral Alenko, sir,” she retorts sarcastically, although she instantly feels bad about it. “I’m sorry, I…I love you. Have a good day. Really this time.”

It’s become mostly routine, Kaidan going back to work while Shepard has not. She hates it still, feeling so frail and useless, but she knows it doesn’t matter. The galaxy is still largely in a state of peace, unsurprising considering the scope of the war that ended her career. Pirates and mercs still start trouble in the Traverse from time to time and the Alliance has a consistent presence there, but for the most part it’s remained all about building and training, with yet very little actual combat. She will always be an Alliance marine, just as she will always be the first human Spectre, but the couch has replaced the front lines and old books and vids, as well as her own writing (a solace greatly encouraged by Kelly years ago), have replaced Reapers and Cerberus.

She’s still renowned as a hero. Even when she doesn’t feel like one.

“I love you, too,” he tells her, smiling. “Do you just want people to come to you, or—”

“No, I’ll come out,” she interrupts. She can’t stand being sequestered like this, like she was when she first came to this house.

“I can lie on the couch, it’ll be fine,” she says to the look on Kaidan’s face before he can voice his concerns.

He extends his hands to her and she takes them, helping her up. It’s remarkable how far in she isn’t and how much this is draining her.

“Oh god, never mind,” she mumbles as she has to bolt upwards and dash into the bathroom. She’s already learned to keep her hair tied back at all times. She’s sure it’s a tangled mess, but she can’t bring herself to care about that right now.

He waits for her to return, deciding he’s changed his mind. “Maybe you should come out. Try to eat something if you can.”

 _That_ is code for “let our friends babysit you,” but she can’t begrudge him. She’s had so much trouble taking care of herself and subsequently keeping weight on ever since Cerberus brought her back, and their family from the Normandy have made it a strong point over the years to help her with that particular hurdle in any way they can. But now it’s been more difficult than ever, struggling even to hold down water, when it has never been more important.

“I’m sure more people will be stopping by soon, too,” he echoes her earlier thought. “It might be good for you to see them.”

He doesn’t like how thin she’s looking. He hasn’t liked it for a long time, but he’d gotten fairly used to it because he had to, and he hasn’t been as afraid of it as he is now in a good few years.

But he _is_ afraid of it now, so he has to try.

Jack’s officially transferring to his school soon. He hasn’t told Shepard yet, but all the paperwork is nearly finalized. He might have to take her up on that offer of covering some of his classes when she gets there, at least for a little while.

“Kaidan, I think I’m dying,” she whines, leaning into the wall, desperately focusing on keeping herself standing.

“Hey,” he whispers and walks over to her, taking her into his arms. “You’re not…you’re _not._ It’s okay.”

He can’t say “dying” in reference to her. Years later and he still can’t bear to say it.

“I should know, I’ve done it twice,” she does not quite manage to make herself laugh.

Which is only counting the times she actually died, not the times she reasonably should have or the times she came too damn close.

And _that_ is why he cannot say it. Why he’s not sure he ever will stop struggling to.

“Come on,” he encourages again. “We can turn down the temperature and I’ll get you some blankets.”

“That really big pink, white, and brown one your dad made,” she says. “That one’s my favorite.”

That one’s the softest, that’s why he chose the yarn he did, even though it did not fit the usual color themes. Most of what Kaidan’s parents make for her involves red. Most of what they make for him involves blue. Everything they’ve made so far for the baby has been purple.

It’s so good they have their families to help her through this.

***

“How’s the eating been otherwise?” Kelly checks in. Shepard’s been able to remain relatively social all day, keeping to the couch and far too often having to run to the nearest bathroom to be sick, but she hasn’t gone back into hiding.

“I can’t even _think_ about that right now,” Shepard sighs. “I know, Kelly, I know…fuck.”

“Hey, Lola,” James smiles as he comes by. “I raided some spare rooms for more blankets, I hope that’s okay. It’s cold as fuck in this place.”

“Just like old times,” Shepard notes.

Just like old times is right, though. Not only in that he knows it’s his own damn fault right now that he never remembers to bring enough sweaters when he comes here, but in seeing Shepard appear so helpless. It’s nothing at all like when he found her in London or the early days of her post-war recovery, when it was a profound rarity to see her lucid or even conscious, and hope for her survival was unnervingly touch and go. It is an oddly similar sight at the same time, however, watching life flourish in her in ways that were previously believed to be impossible, and how bittersweet it is against the monumental physical toll it takes on her.

Just like old times, everything here is beautiful despite how difficult it may be to find that beauty through her suffering.

Kelly sits on the floor in front of the couch upon which Shepard lies, and James settles himself beside her, blankets in hand.

“This is fucking weird, you know,” James laughs, and that brings out a smile in Shepard.

“It really is,” Shepard says easily. “I hope Grunt’s not the jealous older brother type.”

“Got any names yet?” James asks, and Shepard sighs.

“Why does everyone keep asking that?” She quietly chuckles at the same time, though, not sure why but not looking to fight it. “We just…we have other things to worry about right now. We’ll get to it when we get to it.”

She doesn’t say out loud that their greatest focus is the fact that calling this _high risk_ would be the understatement of the fucking century, neither does she voice the one persistent thought that she and Kaidan have never once discussed but both feel all too strongly: to give a name is to get too attached, is a point of no return, and they are both too scared to take that leap until they know for a fact this is going to be okay.

“Really, though, Lola…” James puts on his serious voice, and the use of her nickname does nothing to take the edge off. “When was the last time you _tried_ to eat something?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, although her stomach turns over the very conversation. She understands, though. She knows it’s only her own history that is causing this to come up, and she can’t fault anyone else for that.

“Anything Karin can do?” James asks, and Shepard tries to shake her head.

“We’re not medicating anything,” she hisses. “Fucking _everything_ is considered hazardous to my damn health anymore.”

Just like old times, she hates everyone hanging over her like this, hates feeling so helpless. Just like old times, she wants so badly to be nothing but thankful for what she has, for knowing these people would do anything for her.

“But I’m sure _she_ is probably going to yell at me soon, too,” Shepard almost sort of laughs.

“It’s just because we love you, Lola,” James says, and Kelly nods along.

“I know,” Shepard breathes out. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big pink, white, and brown super soft blanket specifically inspired by [this](http://becauseanders.tumblr.com/post/171843747938/thanks-to-my-many-recent-experiences-wearing-this) pink, white, and brown super soft hat and matching scarf cinnamages made me. It would also be perfect for Kaidan because it's a super stimmy texture and [Kaidan being autistic is a headcanon I will die for](http://becauseanders.tumblr.com/post/163910983748/kaidan-alenko-is-autistic).


	3. Time

“You know what I just realized, we’ve known each other for almost a damn decade,” Joker muses. “How fucked up is that.”

“Very,” Shepard laughs, leaning into the kitchen table and clutching a mug of tea. “Honestly, where the fuck have our lives gone?”

“To hell,” Joker shrugs. “But then back again. And you’ve been typically to thank…or, you know, blame.”

He laughs, and somehow it is genuinely funny.

“Life with you has always been a fucking ride, Shepard.”

“Not sure that’s a good thing,” she replies quietly. “I know for a fact there’s been a lot of visual records taken of me on Omega and the Citadel that I hope _someone_ never sees.”

Her right hand drops and gently passes over the small bump that has started to form, so slight that only she and Kaidan have noticed it but enough to make this all so much more real.

(Although they still haven’t talked about names. They can’t.)

“Too bad you don’t know the Shadow Broker,” he teases in return. “Bet they could help with that if you could find them.”

“I’ll have to see what I can do,” she nods.

“How are you feeling?” he asks seriously after a moment.

“Oh god, not _you,”_ she sighs. _“You’re_ not supposed to get all touchy-feely, it’s weird.”

“Yeah, but what _isn’t_ weird with you?”

“Touché.”

She stares down her tea, strangely content for the time being. Joker and Edi arrived about a week ago, with Steve close behind. She’s been regularly corresponding with Miranda, Jack, and Jacob. Wrex, Grunt, Kasumi, and Samara have sent a few nice letters here and there, as well. Garrus and Tali will be on their way shortly, and Zaeed has sent surprisingly thoughtful and infant-friendly care packages, albeit right along with a shiny new assault rifle (and a note to tell them its name is Lisa). David Archer has written her every Tuesday for nearly five years, and his messages are as heartfelt as ever. Diana has been promised exclusives, which means Samantha will be there soon, too.

Everyone has scattered but they never truly remain far apart for long.

Kaidan’s parents have also started popping in from time to time. Shepard’s slowly but surely begun keeping food down long enough not to worry _too much_ over an hour long car ride, but Karin still doesn’t want her travelling, so concessions are to be made.

“So, I heard Jack’s living in Point Grey now?” Joker asks, changing the subject. “How’s that working?”

“Miranda’s still on Horizon, yeah,” Shepard answers, following what he’s thinking. “Jack’s in military housing for now. It works, though, same way as Tali and Garrus do, I guess, or Samantha and Diana. Besides, rumor has it the Alliance is absorbing the Antigone Project, so that’ll probably have some effect on their future, too.”

“Really?” Joker sounds legitimately surprised. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Three guesses,” Shepard smirks. “But don’t tell anyone.”

Miranda and Oriana truly have done great work with Antigone, their response to Cerberus which they based out of Sanctuary. Aside from part of their initial goals being retribution, they’ve taken in such brilliant minds as David Archer and Ann Bryson, and Kelly’s had great success running her therapy clinic there. It makes sense that the Alliance would want to back it, especially given everyone involved’s connections to Shepard and her team.

“But yeah,” Shepard continues, “Jack’s at Ascension here now. She still reports to Kahlee, but it sounds like a lot of shit’s slowly being moved around to become more centralized in Vancouver.”

“Wonder why,” Joker chuckles.

“Fuck off,” Shepard retorts. This is more what she expects from their dynamic. This is what she wants from her time with Joker.

Unfortunately, having Jack so close has already been extraordinarily helpful. She stepped in for Kaidan without hesitation the time his mother called him in a panic after Shepard passed out in front of her, and she’d be lying if she claimed she wasn’t grateful for him running home the way he did, that it wasn’t nice to have him close by while Karin forced her onto IV fluids and everyone kept on panicking until Karin gave her the all clear.

(Especially since, while _her_ safety and well being was the still the greatest priority for everyone else who was there, Shepard herself was _not_ the one _she_ was worried about.)

“Andrea calling her ‘Mom’ yet?” Joker asks genuinely. “Because that’s not even weirder than _this_ or anything.”

“Miranda’s held dibs on ‘Mom,’” Shepard grins. It has never stopped making her happy, Miranda having this, Miranda figuring out where she needs to be for her own life’s sake, for her own happiness. “Last I heard, though, ‘Mama Jack’ has become a thing, which is…okay, yeah, that is still pretty fucking weird.”

“It’s about to be the first half of 2187 all over again, huh?” Joker notes lightly. “Everyone all back in one place. The fucking Hotel Normandy over here.”

“‘Hotel Normandy,’ I like that,” Shepard laughs. “We should trademark it. Although, you know, if Hackett ever fucking retires, I’m not sure you all are going to be able to keep running out here like this any time something big happens.”

Their little “hotel” had opened up again for a good few months of 2188, as well, in preparation and then continuing celebration of Shepard and Kaidan’s wedding. That was not nearly as long lived a stay for their family as when she came back from the Catalyst, but it falls into the trend of these people so consistently being ready and willing to stay as close to her as they can whenever and for however long they can.

These people would do anything for her.

“Except you realize your fucking _husband_ is totally gonna be one of the top candidates to replace him, right,” Joker replies. “And yeah, that’s _if_ Hackett ever steps down. So you’re _probably_ just gonna need to keep sucking it up.”

They’ve been married for four years and to this day her face never fails to light up at the mention of Kaidan as her husband or of Shepard as his wife.

Joker can’t help his own lighting up in response, either, seeing her look so happy. He and Kaidan have had their rough patches, but in the end he’s thrilled Kaidan and Shepard ended up together, that she got what she’d wanted for so long. And despite how tense their relationship once was, Joker and Kaidan are brothers _now,_ and that’s what matters.

“You think?” Shepard looks up. “Kaidan’s that high up the chain these days?”

“So you don’t know _everything,_ huh,” Joker laughs at her. “I mean, probably. He’s got the rank, record, and respect it’d take to at least get his name thrown into the ring. You know, like with the Council.”

“Yeah, I never blamed him for turning that down,” she shakes her head. “I still don’t even understand the point of the Council anymore. I kind of get it, it’s _symbolic_ or whatever, but…I don’t know, it just sounds like a lot of pressure for a pretty much meaningless, obsolete position.”

“Yeah, you’re just bitter that you _didn’t,”_ Joker pokes fun at her.

“Well, they don’t actually expect anything from _me,”_ Shepard acknowledges. Everyone knows about the chronic pain she lives with that is considered full on disability, and everyone gives her plenty of leeway accordingly. “And how fucked up is it that _I’m_ what passes as humanity’s greatest surviving diplomat? Further proof of how meaningless it is, honestly.”

Joker does not bother to try to convince her that they were right about _that,_ that no one would be here without her and how much that matters, how relevant that is to the Council wanting her. He knows there’s little point, knows all too well by now that there’s virtually no getting her to see how important she is and to recognize how much she has personally accomplished single handedly, regardless of how much he always wishes she could.

And there are a few uncomfortable beats between them at that of entirely different origins, a moment of silence to contemplate the heavier implications of why she accepted the Council’s offer.

“Besides, I think it’s what Dad—umm, what Anderson would have wanted,” she says solemnly, eyes shifting awkwardly, and Joker decides he cannot let her wallow in this right now.

“Anyway, the _real_ point of the Council is getting to laugh our asses off for the rest of our damn lives about the krogan getting a seat,” he points out, successfully lightening the tone of the conversation.

“Alright, I’ll give you that one,” she agrees. “If you’d have told either of us when we first met Wrex…”

“Never would have believed it, nope,” Joker says quickly. “Fuck, though, wow, it’s been _that_ long.”

“I know,” Shepard mutters. “It is…strange.”

It’s harder to wrap her head around that amount of time, of course, and always will be, having not been there for two entire years of it herself.

Twice she’s died, and with too many more close calls to count, but she somehow always comes out in one piece.

And now here she is, miraculously made up of two.

“Oh hey, if Miranda and Jacob are visiting, do you think they’ll bring the kids? Maybe let you get in some practice?” Joker laughs, and she does her best not to mimic, forcing a firm scowl.

“I hate you, Joker,” she smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you, too.”

***

“Fuck, how do you live like this?” Shepard unapologetically whines at Kaidan, holding her hands over her eyes while he gets changed for the night.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Just rest, okay. We’ll get through this.”

He tosses his uniform aside haphazardly and crawls into bed, and she breathes out a contented hum when he settles in beside her, thankfully having turned out the light.

“At least it’s not a migraine,” she reminds herself, letting her hands wander down to her pelvis. “Or I don’t think it is. Not from what you’ve described, anyway.”

“I think you’d know, honestly,” he says. “It’s…its own whole unique experience, for sure. I hope you never do.”

He is relieved by her reassurance, with _migraine_ having been his first thought when he saw her reacting to the light. It had scared him more than he thinks he should tell her right now, simply because even through all of the chronic pain she’s lived with over the years, she’s never had a migraine and he has been more hypervigilant than ever for any new or at all abnormal symptoms.

It seems to work for her now, though, that _he_ does live with them. It’s why they sleep in a room without windows, leaving the space pitch black in the absence of artificial light, which is perfect.

“Does everything fucking _spin_ like this for you, too? With a migraine?” She sounds almost as bad as she feels, but it’s okay. She can show weakness, she’s allowed. Learning that has been a long, ongoing process, but she’s going to be keeping that in mind _a lot_ over the next several months.

“Usually, yeah,” he admits.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says sincerely.

“Just take it easy,” he moves right back to fussing over her. “Rest. Relax.”

“Maybe someday I’ll figure out how the hell to do _that,”_ she laughs. “Although, I probably _should_ be getting in as much time to myself as I can before we go public.”

“You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to,” he hastily notes. “I’ll cover as much as you want, even when it’s just Diana. But it’ll be good to be open about it; I’m running out of excuses to tell the kids whenever Jack subs in.”

They’ve been waiting until the second trimester to tell anyone who isn’t family, waiting until a “safe” time—or what would be considered so in a normal situation, anyway.

But they know they have to announce it eventually, whether they want to or not. And it isn’t only because Kaidan’s students have started questioning his repeated unplanned “important meetings” and, even more, “family emergencies,” but that—unfortunately—they are both still too famous to be able to keep this to themselves forever in any case.

Karin’s insistence on Shepard refraining from as much activity as possible and the subsequent rarity of her leaving the house does buy them some time if they decide they need more of it, but they both know that at some point she’ll have to be seen, and they don’t want the inevitability of breaking the news to the press to be taken out of their hands.

A large part of both of them had hoped that they’d no longer be household names by now, but they have not been so lucky (as far as they each see it). While Kaidan is simply too easily overwhelmed by all of the attention, Shepard hates being given so much of the glory.

He shifts onto his side and rests a hand over hers, and in this moment he can break far enough through his anxiety to be _happy._

He wouldn’t trade this, _any_ of this—her, them, their struggles, the good times and the bad—for anything.

Messed up kid that he was, he could never of dreamed of the life he has.

It is strikingly quiet between them for a time, and Kaidan assumes Shepard has fallen asleep until he hears her start to breathe unnervingly heavily, followed promptly by the sudden sound of her crying.

“Kaidan…Kaidan, am I going to be a good mom?”

Her question is frantic, desperate, and immediately his only concern is calming her, easing her mind as well as he possibly can.

“Hey, Carrie…hey, of course you will.” His voice is low and gentle, soothing. _“Of course you will.”_

“But what about…about the night terrors or when I can’t sleep or the…or the flashbacks or the…or the panic attacks or the fucking episodes—depressive _or_ manic or…what if I’m hallucinating again or I don’t know where I am or…the high pain days and…hell, I can’t _walk_ by myself half the time anymore, Kaidan, I…Kaidan, I don’t think I can do this…”

“A lot of that has gotten better,” he says carefully. _“You_ have been doing so much better. It’ll be okay. You can do this, I know you can.”

It was hard, downright painful even, when she first came back after the war, when the strain of all the emotions she’d repressed over the years finally cracked her. Having to deal with her frequently communicating with the dead, even though it made it a little easier that she knew they weren’t really there, and often waking up to the sound of her screaming next to him was…it was rough, to say the least. But they got through it, and her mental health has improved significantly in the aftermath. It is true that she will still occasionally shut down, that he will have to remind her of where and when and sometimes who she is when things get to be too much, sometimes he does still have to remind her that she’s real and that she genuinely is alive, but the visions are mostly behind them and her bipolar has leveled out as time has gone by, as well, possibly as much as it ever will.

And he knows her, knows her stubbornness and willpower, knows how driven she is and what she can do when she wants something badly enough.

He believes in her. Just as he always has.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers.

And she trusts him, therefore she has to trust in him.

“I’m here, Carrie. I’ve got you. You can do this. _We_ can do this.”

And for now, that is enough.

When she does finally fall asleep, she dreams of her parents, of her younger siblings, as though they had never died. She is back in their old prefab farmland home, and Ashley and Anderson join them there for dinner. But it is only a dream, it is not another fracture in reality.

And in the morning she wakes up crying once again, but it is not as much out of sadness as one would expect. Instead she feels as though they are all watching over her, whether she truly believes in such a possibility or not, and that they are proud of her, that they are encouraging her.

And for now, with Kaidan and the remaining family she’s found by her side, that is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I really have done my best in this to not be too vague about my canon but also not overexplain anything unnecessarily. But yeah, I do have a few odd Mass Effect ships, lol.
> 
> And I am sort of almost sorry for the fact that I appear to be completely allergic to writing literally anything that isn't heavily laden with angst, ahaha (I would also like to take a moment now to particularly apologize in advance for the next chapter), but at least for Carrie specifically, there is no way this was ever going to be an easy journey. And you know, honestly, it is always just nice to write that level of incredible love and support I adore so much between these people.


	4. Stay

It’s been a couple of weeks since the news broke, and both Shepard and Kaidan have been positively submerged in well wishes, delivered emphatically through the press and through the hordes of fan mail being received by Alliance HQ.

Shepard has been involuntarily bedridden for the past few days, feeling what she can only describe as _off,_ and she is going absolutely stir crazy.

“Please, _please_ let me go,” she begs James when he offers to make a grocery run for the house. “Please, I can do _this,_ just let me…”

“Sorry, Lola, not my call,” James tells her, and she crosses her arms in a petulant huff.

It’s not just the hormones making her so moody and temperamental, though, and nobody thinks that for a second. She’s ready to kick and scream her way outside of this house if she can, or at least outside of this room, feeling so helpless and out of control of her own body.

Not that she particularly minds _sharing_ it, exactly; no, her problem is with the part where everyone is telling her what she can and cannot do with it (even when they’re right).

Kaidan isn’t home, he’s trying to actually get as many full days in at work as possible before he takes leave. She’s made him promise he’ll wait a few more months, that he won’t stay away from his students any longer than need be, but it’s coming and he is therefore working with them as much as he can in the meantime.

“Alright, I’ll see what Doc says,” James responds sympathetically.

He walks out, leaving her alone for the time being, and she impatiently spins her wedding ring around and around on the chain she’s been keeping it on around her neck, along with her engagement ring and the victory ring Edi gave her, as they have not fit on her swollen hands for a few weeks.

Karin does not even offer greetings when she walks into the room, omni-tool running scans before either of them can say a word.

“I’m nervous about your implants, Shepard,” she says firmly. “Some of your wiring seems to be reacting strangely to the presence of unrecognized cellular growth in there, and I’d feel much safer if we exercise caution and keep you under observation.”

“Concern acknowledged,” Shepard sighs. “Can I go now?”

She’s being terribly selfish and she damn well knows it, but she’s so tired of feeling trapped and constantly having to call people in because she can’t go to them any more than she can be left alone with her own thoughts for too long.

“I don’t like this, but you can go _with_ James,” Karin compromises. “If anything happens to you, though, I _am_ telling Kaidan this excursion was against medical advice.”

“And he outranks us all, so I don’t know if I want to fuck with him,” James laughs. “But seriously, Lola, are you—”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps, but she has a moment of regret for this small tantrum she’s been holding. “I’m sorry, I’m…fuck, I just need to do _something,_ I…”

“It’s okay, come on,” James smiles at her. “We’ll make it quick, though, alright?”

“Alright,” she agrees. “Let me just…let me get some real clothes on.”

She hasn’t changed out of her pajamas in days and she doesn’t even want to think about her appearance overall, but she figures she can _dress_ as though she’s intended to go outside if nothing else.

“I’ll watch out for her,” James assures Karin after they step into the hallway to leave Shepard to it. “Promise.”

“I know,” Karin nods. “I just worry about her.”

She sounds so maternal. Just as she always does when it comes to Shepard.

“I know,” James nods in turn. “So do I.”

Shepard, meanwhile, finds one of her favorite articles of clothing: a very soft red and black sweater dress that is currently more of just a sweater, made by Kaidan’s mother, with its empire waist making it a perfect fit for her now.

She does not bother putting on real pants, though, sticking to the wonderfully stretchy pair she’s been wearing for god knows how long.

Shoes are the hard part, her usual boots being far too daunting. She is able to find the pair of loose fitting slip-ons Brynn sent her, which had come attached with a kind note about how much she’d thank her for them later.

“Okay,” she says to James when she emerges, suddenly almost as nervous as they are about her going out. “Let’s get going.”

It’s a short ride to the nearest market. Shepard tells herself it can be a practical journey, too, that it might help to be part of picking out dinner to avoid a previously unanticipated aversion before it’s too late.

She also wants to browse the kosher section, see if she can pick up yahrzeit candles. She knows she’s not supposed to burn them as often as she does, but with how chaotic so much of her life has been, it is all too easy to lose track of the actual anniversaries of every death she is lighting one for, and there are also just so many for her to light. Of the customs from her childhood she has adopted over the years, most have been adapted, too—modified for herself in some form or another, and this is no exception. In lieu of lighting one every year to commemorate the loss of a loved one, she lights one every week, cycling through who they are in honor of, and that leaves her going through them oh so quickly.

She lights them for her mother and father, for her younger sisters and brother, for Anderson, for Ashley, for Thane, for Mordin, for Legion, for Bailey, for Pressly, for Jenkins, for her entire unit on Akuze, and then another for all the countless other lives she couldn’t save. She thinks often, too, of Joker’s sister and father, of Tali’s father, of Steve’s husband, of Rila, of Kal’Reegar, of Captain Kirrahe, of Tarquin Victus, of Nyreen Kandros, of Matriarch Benezia in her last moments, and even of Andrea’s birth parents, whoever they were, and sometimes takes another week to light one especially for all of them.

She counts the names, preserves their memories.

Her attention is pulled back to where she is, however, when James starts asking about dinner, getting back to why he was making this trip with or without her to start with.

“Oh god, no,” she tells him when he brings up steak. “I’m not supposed to have it cooked _properly,_ anyway, and…no, can’t.”

“Alright, let’s keep looking,” he replies, that sibling-like affection they share prevalent in his tone.

She looks a bit too unsteady, though, now that she’s moving around, so he would prefer to stick to the initial plan of getting right in and out.

She’s supposedly at a point where risks have substantially minimized, but fuck only knows how that will _actually_ work for her—or if such a point will even come at all before the birth itself is all over and done with.

While many of her early symptoms remained relatively normal, even if usually fairly exaggerated given the nature of her continued existence, the more time goes on the more it seems that their staying so was evidently too much to ask. Not that they did not anticipate that possibility, of course, but all the same…

A young couple passes them by and he notices the way they both turn around to look back at her, the way they whisper.

She thought the public knowing would make her less anxious about being seen, that it wouldn’t be the same as being _caught._ She doesn’t appreciate the glances, though, and she realizes she hates being here at all.

She’ll now be complaining a lot less about staying in, it would seem.

She is able to find the candles she was looking for, at least. She wordlessly takes every last one from their shelf and puts them into the cart James is pushing, and he instinctively brushes a hand against her arm, gently reminding her that he’s there.

“What was that one thing Esteban made you?” James asks when she turns to brace herself against another shelf. She’s looking a little pale and he is now _determined_ to wrap this up. “The one with the potatoes? Or was it noodles?”

“Kugel can be either,” she smiles. “And yeah, yeah, that sounds…and I don’t think there’s anything in it I can’t eat right now…”

“How about we finish up here, then?” he follows, making no effort whatsoever to consider what they need to buy to make a kugel. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to take care of getting all that together.”

“I’m fine,” she insists. “James, I’m…”

She trails off and stumbles slightly. She feels unbearably nauseated out of nowhere, and she is excruciatingly hot.

“Lola?”

“Okay, fuck, we…fuck, we need to go, we need to leave, fuck…”

She looks like she’s starting to panic, and James is sure that can’t be good for _either of them._

“Lola, what’s—”

She swiftly reaches for him but she misses completely. “James, I can’t…oh god…”

Everything is spinning, a sensation that has become fairly familiar, although it had been starting to subside. She has learned to recognize a rapid drop in blood pressure over the past couple of months, and that is precisely what this feels like, but she has never before found herself entirely deprived of sight.

She is horrified and she can’t control her breathing. Her ears have started ringing, and she doesn’t understand what’s happening but it is all happening so fucking fast.

Her head is pounding and she feels herself crash into solid and warm.

James is using every ounce of willpower he possesses not to start freaking out, as well, and he does his best to keep her steady when she falls forward, right into him, and she has begun crying for help and repeatedly shouting about how she cannot see, and she doesn’t realize at all how very loud she’s being.

“Lola, talk to me,” he says, hoping his own panic doesn’t show. “Lola— _Shepard,_ look at me.”

 _This,_ surely, cannot be normal.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she finds herself insisting again even as she begins sinking, James’s physical presence the only thing keeping her from hitting the floor.

Passersby are stopping in their tracks, staring. He isn’t looking at anyone but Shepard, but he catches the subtle glow of omni-tools popping up in his peripheral vision.

He can’t worry about them, though. She might kill him later if he doesn’t and vids of this hit the extranet, but that’s fine. As long as she gets out of here safely, she can kill him all she wants.

She tries to pull away from him, to stay standing all on her own, but it is obvious this can’t last.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says once more. “I’ll come back for this stuff later, let’s get you home.”

“I’m fine,” she repeats, her words slurred. “I’m…”

Everyone in the whole damn store must be watching by now, when she goes limp against him and he slowly eases her down and kneels over her.

 _“Back the fuck off,”_ he shouts at the small crowd, and he doesn’t give a shit about _that_ making any vids.

She’s breathing, he makes sure of that, but after shifting her partially onto her left side he has no idea what else to do.

She is really going to hate this, he knows. But he imagines they won’t have to worry about her contradicting Karin again anytime soon.

Some of the bystanders do have enough respect to walk away when James yells, but not enough.

“Come on, Shepard,” he mutters, thoughts racing back to Karin’s comments about her implants reacting.

“Should someone call for help?” an apparently legitimately well intentioned stranger asks, but James can’t come up with an answer for them.

It is, thankfully, only a few more seconds before Shepard starts coming back around, although he still has no clue how to proceed.

She tries to reach for James, to find his hand while she starts to regain awareness, or so she vaguely thinks she does but she isn’t actually moving.

She can see again, though. Her vision is too blurry to be functional, yet tunneled and spotty, but she is getting it back.

“I want to go home,” she mumbles after nearly another minute. She is still slurring a bit, but it’s a marked improvement from where was moments ago.

“Just a second,” he says. “Take it slow. We’ll get you home, Lola. You’re okay.”

The crowd has mostly dispersed before she is alert enough to focus on them. She’s going to be mortified by this later, but for now he is glad that she can retain the bliss of ignorance when she needs it most.

***

“Oh my god,” Kaidan reacts as expected.

He is struggling not to start pacing, and begins wringing his hands and slightly rocking back and forth on his feet instead.

“I’m taking leave,” he follows. “I can’t risk…”

He can’t say it. Whatever it is, he can’t say it.

“I can handle it,” Jack tells him. “Doubling up on classes or…whatever. Do what you need to do, Boy Scout, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks,” he whispers.

After all, this is not the first time he’s come home to learning he’d missed an emergency and found himself overwhelmed with unfairly self-imposed regret that he hadn’t been there for her, even if it has been years since the last.

“Fuck knows either of you’d do the same for me, so…” Jack shrugs, portraying as much nonchalance as she can, but she’s not fooling anyone and she isn’t sure she cares.

“I don’t care how much she pleads, she is _not_ to leave this house unnecessarily again until this is over,” Karin joins them in the dining room, raising her voice like none of them have ever heard her do before. “And I hope to god you’re not planning on doing this again, Kaidan.”

She can’t take it.

“We weren’t exactly planning on doing it this time, but…”

He agrees with her, though. For as much as he wants this, what they could have is not worth losing what he has already.

He can’t lose her again.

Those implants have provided her three miracles, have defied all logic to keep her alive on three separate critical occasions: once after she died with the Normandy, once after the Catalyst tore her apart to synthesize her DNA, and the time in between that no one likes to talk about, the time she tried to take her own life while in Alliance detention and by all rights should have succeeded.

For as much as they all despise Cerberus, Shepard’s survival has been the greatest gift, the one good thing to come out of that abomination.

But if they destroy her now, in this…

They can’t take it.

And this is why they still have yet to touch the subject of baby names.

“Shit, okay,” Kaidan starts, despising himself for what he is about to say. “I’m just gonna be blunt here: is it, umm, too…too late or too dangerous to…fuck, to _end this_ if we have to?”

His words feel like they’re going to choke him, they burn coming out like spitting up glass, but he can’t not ask this question no matter how much he hates it.

He’s on the verge of shutting down, fighting himself so hard to stay present, to stay verbal, simply to _be there._

He doesn’t actually want that and he hopes to god it doesn’t come to it, but he is so fucking scared and has no idea what he can do.

He can’t lose her again.

“I…I don’t know,” Karin admits defeatedly. “Even if this does become inarguably life-threatening, with how all that tech inside her is responding I’m not sure if termination would be any less a risk. I’m sorry, Kaidan, but I’m as lost as you are here.”

“Miranda’s leaving Horizon in the morning,” Jack speaks up. “She’s not sure how much she can help, but she said she’ll look her over, see how all those circuits and shit are holding up, maybe tweak something if she has to…if she can.”

“Let’s hope so,” Karin says flatly.

Miranda wanted to help when Shepard was overloading after the Crucible, as well, but she didn’t know how to then and that makes it difficult to hope she’ll come with deliverance this time. Back then the effects of the synthesis were so new and Shepard’s body was handling it so uniquely that it was practically impossible to pinpoint an exact cause and come up with a solution, but she is likely every bit as unique in her circumstance now and that hopelessness is so hard to swallow.

But for as disheartening as it is for Karin that having learned Shepard’s physiology post-Lazarus Project as well as anyone who wasn’t involved in it could still leaves her with so much she can fail to understand, she has to keep the faith that the woman who _designed it,_ who made all of that tech by hand, can be of assistance.

She has to keep the faith that this time will be different.

“Yeah,” Kaidan sighs. “‘Hope.’”

“Hey, Kaidan,” James says, continuing to suppress the anxiety that has been weighing on him most of the day. “Maybe you should just…you know.”

“Oh god, James,” Kaidan turns his attention. “Shit, I…are _you_ okay? That had to be…for you…”

“Yeah, man, don’t worry about it,” James lies. Except that he doesn’t quite, for as shaken as he is, with the truth behind it coming forward when he adds, “I’m just glad I was there.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kaidan tells him. “I’m glad someone was.”

“Hey, don’t pull that shit, alright,” Jack says. “You couldn’t have known and Muscles had her covered.”

She’s never alone, not really, and they all know that. Even when it’s only her in the house, their family checks in with her regularly, and anyone who can get there in a hurry always will if she needs them to.

These people would do anything for her.

“Alright, yeah,” Kaidan resigns himself not to argue, and he starts to walk away without another word before Karin stops him.

“And Kaidan…” Her voice is tender, that soft maternal tone she typically reserves only for Shepard. “Don’t forget to take care of _yourself._ No migraines if we can help it, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods unconvincingly. “Okay.”

Shepard looks miserable when Kaidan walks into their bedroom, and it’s clear that she’s been crying.

No, that she _is_ crying.

“I heard you,” she says before he can so much as greet her.

“Carrie…”

“Kaidan, _no.”_ She won’t have what he was saying, she can’t take it.

Names be damned, she is far too attached.

“Kaidan, please, you can’t possibly want—”

“It’s not about what I _want,”_ he does not mean to snap at her so harshly. “It’s…Carrie, I _can’t…”_

He doesn’t need to say the rest. She knows.

He finally brings himself to sit down next to her on the bed, to get close to her and try to calm himself down in the process.

“What I _want_ is for you to be okay,” he says when he can. _“Both_ of you. But if I have to choose, and god knows I don’t want that, but…Carrie, I…”

It’s almost a little strange, having to be so concerned for her safety like this, when she _looks_ the healthiest she has in several years. It’s been an unspeakable relief, how much bigger she’s gotten, and from a purely superficial standpoint everything would appear to be progressing as it should.

At roughly four months in, they’d likely be starting to feel like they’re pretty much out of the woods in terms of having to fear for the worst in a normal pregnancy.

Not that _anything_ with them has ever been normal.

She can’t bear to think of it, though. She can’t. She won’t.

“Kaidan…”

She didn’t think she was prepared for this—in fact, she _knows_ she isn’t—but she isn’t willing to let it go.

She takes in a deep breath and exhales with a chilling sob, the dam bursting wide open, and Kaidan moves down to take her into his arms.

“Kaidan, I…I don’t want to lose this, I…”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know. I don’t want that, either, Carrie. I don’t. I didn’t know how much I wanted this until…”

“Neither did I,” she responds.

She is shaking so hard, adding to his nerves.

“Stay with me,” she says, reaching for his collar, pulling him closer. “Stay with me, Kaidan, I can’t…I can’t, please…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, sure she’d also heard what he said about work.

He has to stay with her now, to make damn sure _she_ stays with him.

Hackett will understand. His students will understand.

“Stay with me,” she says again. “Stay wi—oh my god.”

“What?” He instantly sits upright, as ready as he can be for whatever it is. “Carrie, what…”

She runs her right hand over her abdomen and downwards, and then she swiftly takes his hand with her left and guides him to do the same.

There is movement. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there.

“Oh my god,” he echoes, and they both start to smile.

_Stay with me._

His mind repeats her words, and he is thankful he did not say them out loud.

_Stay with me. Both of you. Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that whole scene in the grocery store probably seems unnecessarily melodramatic and perhaps even borderline unrealistic, but almost that exact same thing has actually happened to me and it was absolutely terrifying and awful when it did so I figured I might as well do something with it, lol. (The only real difference is that I was by myself at the time and the person who came over wanting to help after I started screaming to no one in particular that I couldn't see and then kept me from falling completely on my ass when I passed out was a complete stranger, and that the cause in my case was left officially undetermined but was most likely something involving the perfect storm I had going on of a nice combination of bad medication side effects, a then-very active eating disorder, a very hot day when my chronic pain is heat sensitive, and a migraine.) My memory of the event is, of course, pretty hazy for the most part, but from what I do recall it had to have looked a lot like this, so yeah. But honestly, the horrified panic of out of nowhere feeling entirely certain that you’re about to be sick but then instead suddenly completely losing your eyesight is not really something you ever forget, regardless of what follows. So you know, of all the many medical emergencies I've had in my life, that one may have been the scariest, so I might as well put it to use, right?
> 
> Well, that and—as the wonderful fereldandoglords regularly (and lovingly) reminds me—I am The Worst™.
> 
> Also on the note of how awful I can be, I will add since it was mentioned that yes, Carrie's incarceration is quite canon divergent, and while this is not at all required or even necessarily suggested reading, if anyone is curious to learn more about it, [this chapter here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12974136/chapters/29660439) should cover it well enough (again, only bringing it up since it was referenced here at all, with no pressure whatsoever to check it out, but also with warning for that suicide attempt being depicted in fairly graphic detail).


	5. Open

Miranda is running scans.

And then more scans.

And then more.

This feels like it will go on forever, but Shepard keeps telling herself that it has to matter, that Miranda will be able to make this okay.

Miranda had never pictured Shepard in this position, and she is internally begging the universe to let her have this one, for her to be able to do _something_ for her friend.

Shepard doesn’t know how to tell her how hard she is working not to have a fucking panic attack every time she sees the light of Miranda’s omni-tool running its diagnostics, whatever it is she’s even looking for or trying to diagnose. Every single time it passes over her, she has to remind herself how to breathe.

And she refuses to look, refuses to give as much as the slightest glance towards Miranda, terrified of what her face alone might say.

She should have asked Kaidan to stay with her. Miranda had told them she wanted space to work, but she should have insisted.

Miranda is a dear friend and she loves her very much, but right now she feels so alone. It is difficult to keep in mind that she is not with some stranger, someone without a personal attachment, someone who might be cold and tactless in delivering the bad news she so fears.

She is so scared, and she feels so alone.

“Shepard,” Miranda says after what seems like ages. This silence has been jarringly uncomfortable, but somehow hearing Miranda finally speak is worse.

She doesn’t respond. Miranda watches her chest heave and wants to tell her to just breathe, but she doesn’t know how. Because she knows that if she were in Shepard’s position, she would look exactly the same.

Shepard closes her eyes, attempting to brace herself for the worst. She thinks of what Kaidan said, about having to end this. She wonders if this really isn’t sustainable, and she goes back to wondering if that will come to mean that she isn’t either, if this has been the turning point that will force her body to give up at long last. She thinks on how much more tragic that will be for Kaidan.

She thinks about how she still needs to buy more yahrzeit candles, and if anyone will carry on the tradition and light one for her when she’s gone.

Miranda thinks of how she had pulled Karin aside as soon as she arrived, of searching for the doctor’s professional opinions, no matter how vague they may be.

She thinks on how Karin confessed that she has been too afraid to go near Shepard’s implants herself, how this was so much easier when they were only Shepard’s, and while the technology behind them had always been unique beyond her training, she knows how good she is at her job and she didn’t have any trouble working with them before.

And then Shepard sacrificed her body to the synthesis and everything changed. Her circuits fried, quite literally, and left her with pain she’d never known, struggles with mobility and independence she’d never imagined, all in their working to piece her together again, but this time all on its own.

And now Shepard is eagerly sharing that body which already makes no sense, and this is so far beyond _anyone_ —with Miranda being the only possible exception.

Karin is too much of a mother to Shepard to risk getting too deep in what she isn’t confident enough to dig into, and Miranda has been telling herself all the past two days that she _should_ be confident, doing her best to push down that Shepard is too much of a sister to her to make this so simple.

“Shepard,” Miranda starts again, and this time Shepard actively turns her head away from the sound of her name.

“Shepard, you’re going to be fine. Both of you.”

Her head snaps back at that, eyes open wide, moving so quickly she has to blink away the sensation of the room momentarily wavering around her.

“What?” It isn’t as though she’s not relieved, but that can’t be, that doesn’t connect, she doesn’t—

“I…I don’t _understand.”_

“I’m afraid I can’t do anything to make this any easier on you,” Miranda tells her, and she sounds sadder than she actually is. Of course she hates knowing that Shepard is suffering, but she won’t admit that she’d come in as afraid as anyone else, and to get to tell Shepard she isn’t going to die or miscarry is a substantial joy.

“But there’s nothing _wrong_ with your implants. They’re a little…confused, I suppose would be a good way to put it, and they’re overreacting like they did when they jump started your reconstruction last time. You shouldn’t be alive, Shepard, and we all know that, but they’ve been working on overload for a long time now and this is really no different. Your tech is reconfiguring a bit, and that’s where all these abnormally aggressive symptoms are coming from, and it’ll probably be hell when it likely happens again once it’s back to just you in there. But they’re not hurting anything—not in a life-threatening manner, anyway. All I can tell you is not to exert yourself. _At all._ I know that’s not going to be easy, but—”

“That’s fine,” Shepard sighs, eyes watering. “I’ll deal with it, I’ll…”

Her voice breaks, and so does she. She doesn’t care, either, not remotely embarrassed by the way she outright weeps at the news.

(Not that she’s sure she can be embarrassed anymore, not after what brought them to this point and knowing full well that it has to have made the extranet by now but…well…)

“I’ll get Kaidan,” Miranda offers without prompting, and Shepard chokes something unclear that is meant as thanks, and Miranda understands.

Moments later, Kaidan walks in by himself and Shepard brings herself to sit, and she can’t stop sobbing. Kaidan does not speak a word, only wraps his arms around her as he starts crying, too, and they simply take in each other’s company for a little while, take in the love and comfort between them and how happy they are over Miranda’s prognosis.

***

“Aunt Shepard!” Andrea screams when Jack brings her in. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Shepard smiles at her. “Hey, did Uncle David give you the present I promised?”

“He did,” Andrea answers excitedly. “I named him Spacy, like Space Hamster.”

“Good job,” Shepard laughs. “Glad to know _someone_ appreciates the fine art of naming a pet.”

“Like we _really_ needed another hamster around,” Miranda shakes her head. “Especially since…”

Miranda gets in close and lowers her voice to a whisper. “We’re going to be _moving_ soon.”

“Hey now, that’s classified information,” Jack teases.

“So Antigone’s officially an Alliance project now?” Shepard guesses.

“No,” Miranda and Jack say in unison, but both of them nodding.

“Uncle Kaidan!” Andrea runs out of the room shouting, and Kaidan’s content laughter is audible from the kitchen.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” Jack adds, pointing towards the door. “She kept asking about you…”

“No worries,” Shepard says sincerely. “It’s good to see her. But I hope you’ll understand if I don’t engage that much.”

“She’ll get it,” Miranda says. “I only told her that ‘Aunt Shepard’s not feeling well,’ and she’s been _so_ worried about you. But she’s a smart kid, she’ll understand you needing time for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Shepard replies.

They hear loud footsteps followed by Andrea yelling some more, and it is a safe assumption Kaidan is playfully chasing her around.

_He’s going to be a great dad._

“We won’t keep you,” Miranda says, smiling at the sound of her daughter laughing uproariously. “But I’ll be in touch. We’re staying in the city for a little while, anyway. Same as always, Oriana’s running Antigone while I’m gone, so there’s nothing to worry about as far as that’s concerned.”

Same as always. Just like old times.

These people would do anything for her.

***

Karin isn’t backing off any, but no one would have expected her to. She keeps a strict schedule for monitoring Shepard’s vitals, always double checking her blood pressure and oxygen levels.

Karin never wanted a family of her own. She has always said that the Alliance is her spouse and the soldiers she cares for are her children, and that’s as close as it ever needed to get. She never wanted to have children, but that is what she got in Shepard anyway. Shepard has slipped up and called her “Mom” as often as she had called Anderson “Dad,” and Karin herself cannot argue.

Shepard has become a daughter to her and she loves her as such, whether she’d planned for it or not, and she’ll be damned if she isn’t going to make a proper fuss over her.

“How are you holding up?” Kelly asks Shepard, sitting beside the bed, Karin still busying herself with scans.

“Better now, I think,” Shepard replies.

She does not stop worrying, though, cannot stop focusing on what could yet be.

She wonders if she and Kaidan should finally approach the subject of names. But even now, she isn’t sure she can.

Of course, she also never actually _could_ even give the damn hamster a real name, regardless of how it’s become nothing more than a joke in hindsight.

She has always been afraid of getting attached, though, if she wants to be honest with herself—to anything, to _anyone._

Not that it ever seems to stop her.

“You’re almost halfway there,” Kelly points out, and Shepard reaches for her hand.

It’s been interested watching her walls fall over the years, seeing Shepard become so openly affectionate with everyone she loves.

She’s always been a good friend, but she used to _try_ to hold her guard up no matter who she was with. But this has not been the case in a long time, and it’s always as heartwarming as ever to see her let go the way she has.

Kelly accepts Shepard’s hand, grips it tight.

“You’ve got this, Shepard,” she adds, and Shepard tries to return her encouraging smile.

“I’m still fucking terrified,” Shepard laughs awkwardly. “I mean, _you_ had to keep my fucking fish alive until I got a VI to do it for me.”

“But you’ve done pretty well with Grunt,” Kelly chuckles.

“I’m not sure it’s the same,” Shepard sighs.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve put new life into the universe,” Kelly assures to Shepard’s confused expression. “Grunt, in fact, would probably never have left his tank without you. And if you think about it, Edi is your responsibility, too. She _is,_ after all, a fairly unique form of life that didn’t exist before you made it exist.”

“You know, I never thought about it that way,” Shepard says, although she stands by not believing it to be the same, but she elects to leave that unspoken for now. “Thanks, Kelly.”

“And lord knows how good you are already at making families,” Kelly adds. “And even _you_ can’t argue with that one.”

But it’s true, she can’t. There is something about her that tends to bring people together, something about her that forges the most unexpected relationships wherever she goes.

There is something about her that she could never name, never place, never hope to understand. But she has seen it too often to be able to deny it.

She squeezes Kelly’s hand. It has become so much easier to be so open with her loved ones over the years, to show them exactly what they mean to her, exactly how much they mean to her. Sometimes it’s in words, and sometimes it is like this, in the smallest of gestures. But she gets her meaning across. She always does.

Maybe she really can do this.

It’s not the same as unofficially adopting a krogan warrior, but it’s surely not the same as a bunch of fucking fish, either.

***

“I thought N7 prepared you for _everything,_ Lola,” James laughs by her bedside. “Definitely seemed like it, anyway.”

It didn’t prepare _him_ for this, either, though. He’s only been around long enough to lose Shepard once, but he cannot imagine having to do it again.

And he’s seen her fall apart his fair share, but he’s sure that would be nothing compared to what it could have looked like now.

“Not everything, I guess,” Shepard shrugs.

She did keep her promise and get that N7 tattoo on her back to match his once he graduated, though, a wonderful reminder of one of her closest—albeit probably strangest—friendships.

From escort and detainee to brother and sister…

She really _is_ good at making families.

Her other tattoos show that well, too. She has large and visible momentos for Ashley and Anderson on her arms, with several other small pieces scattered across old scars. She’s sure some of those tokens are being affected, that some encroach upon skin that is currently stretching and changing, but that’s fine. The little ones she keeps hidden have always been for her and only for her (gems such as Mindoir’s coordinates, Anderson’s service number, and the Hebrew word for “life” written in the aleph-bet), and their appearance doesn’t concern her in the slightest.

It occurs to her that it doesn’t matter that she never truly anticipated this being part of her path, it still should not even remotely surprise her that this would mean so much, that she would be so happy to start a family this way.

She has _always_ gravitated towards unplanned family.

And now she can pass along the love her birth family had given her in life (or what she remembers of it), she can be the kind of parent she’s missed so much.

The kind of parents Kaidan has, too.

As hard as this might be, it’s exactly right. This is what it should be. This is hers.

She is holding James’s hand, as well, the same way she held Kelly’s. This is not unusual for her, of course, but James still remembers the very first time she showed him affection this way. It was here, after the war was over, not long before he had to leave for ICT. And he will always remember the way she leaned into him on the living room couch, his surprise at discovering what a cuddler she can be, how much love she has and how plain it is to see since she’s started letting herself show it.

And he’s not sure he’ll ever _not_ be in awe of it, of how open she has become, how she is such a great friend to so many and that he gets to be counted among them. She was his hero once, after all, and he had never dreamed of meeting her, much less fighting with her. But as luck would have it…

She smiles at him, and it is a look he has seen often. It means “I’m happy you’re here,” it means “I couldn’t do this without you,” and—most importantly—it means “I love you.”

“You’re gonna be great, you know,” he tells her, because he instinctively knows she needs to hear it.

But she’s almost starting to believe that could be true.

Her families have given her so much to believe in.

She has so much love to give. Kaidan, too. And the thought of those two together, of what a powerful force they will make as parents—James has no doubt in his mind that they’re making the luckiest kid in the whole damn galaxy.


	6. Preparation

“Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh…”

That little laugh of Grunt’s can be heard from a mile away, and his arrival is met with loud, resounding greetings.

Shepard is feeling up to sitting on the couch, and Karin has decided to allow it. Her energy had been off the charts for a couple of weeks, making it harder again to take it easy but making everyone around her worry all that much more.

Recommended breathing, relaxing, reading, catching up on vids, and extensively speaking to Kelly about her ongoing mental state has all done its job, it seems, and being as ready to burst as she was has left her drained all over again.

And keeping the house at a nice, comfortable 5° Celsius while she wraps herself in piles of blankets is certainly helping immensely, as well.

She’s the only one who likes it like this, but no one complains.

James finally went out and bought extra sweaters.

(It’s funny how easy it is for one to adjust to the needs of someone they love most and had once—or twice—believed gone. It’s funny how easy it is for one to give such a person everything they can when they will never, ever take their very presence for granted.)

Everyone there is making a day of starting to babyproof. Well, _almost_ everyone.

“I got a damn shotgun my first day out of the tank,” Grunt points out. “Any kin of Shepard’s will be able to handle themselves out of the womb just fine.”

“That’s, umm, _not_ how it works,” Vanessa responds. “Not with humans, anyway.”

“Just put that baby gate in front of the back door, _please,_ by the goddess,” Liara begs.

“Grunt, listen to Liara,” Shepard chimes in.

 _“Shepard,”_ Grunt huffs.

“Grunt, listen to your mother,” Garrus follows.

“How many fucking baby gates do you people need?” Grunt shouts as he picks one up and heads towards the back.

 _“A lot,”_ Steve laughs. “One for every set of stairs, one for every door…”

“Although Kaidan’s probably going to need to open them up for _me,_ too, when this is all said and done,” Shepard sighs.

For the time being, rooms which are regularly used are not to be guarded. As far as having one ready for every possible location is a simple matter of preferring to be safe rather than sorry.

“God, it feels like none of this is ever going to be enough,” Kaidan says, who sits down beside Shepard and passes her a mug of hot chocolate.

“And it never _will_ feel like enough,” Yevheniy responds with a smile. “I think you’ll be okay, though. After all, you learned from the best.”

“Yevheniy, please,” Vanessa calls over, her laughter nearly overtaking her words. “Get over here and help me with the corners on this table.”

“Hey now, give him a break,” Shepard calls back. “You know, I’m not sure he’s _wrong.”_

“Spirits, Shepard, you’re even this gross with the whole family,” Garrus teases.

“Yep,” Shepard chuckles, nodding.

“Oh, where’s Tali?” Liara asks after a moment.

“She’s—oh hey, Kaidan, did you _know_ there’s a little bed and breakfast in Strathcona just for dextro DNA?” Garrus turns to Kaidan, who shakes his head.

“Well, Tali’s booking us a room,” Garrus continues. “Figure we’ll make some time for a bit of a vacation while we’re here, too.”

“It’s so weird how we’re still not supposed to eat the same food,” Kelly says. “Evolution’s been a crazy thing over the past few years.”

While it’s true that sharing food across DNA types is no longer fatal, it is likely to make the consumer fairly ill and is therefore highly discouraged. Kelly is right, it’s been fascinating to see where evolution has taken them, and it doesn’t always have to make sense. Quarian immune systems have reaped some of the most obvious benefits, but otherwise the progress has been slow and scattered yet always remarkable.

“That, it has,” Edi smiles, the most personally affected of all among them.

“I had no idea,” Kaidan answers Garrus. “How’d you find it?”

“Extranet,” Garrus shrugs. “Stumbled across it browsing for vacation spots. Figured you might want to know, if you ever meet anyone else who might appreciate it.”

“Noted,” Kaidan says.

“I’m sure I have former colleagues with students who could use that,” Vanessa speaks up excitedly.

“You’re a teacher, Mrs. Alenko?” Liara looks over, interest piqued.

“Here we go,” Kaidan laughs.

“Please, call me Vanessa,” she insists. “But it’d actually be _Dr._ Alenko. The Ph.D. kind, anyway. And yes, I taught at UBC…”

She laughs explaining her honorific, not at all taking herself seriously, but Liara is quick to tell her that she has her doctorate, as well, and both are eager to talk about it to one another.

From there it is only a matter of seconds before Liara and Vanessa lose themselves entirely to discussion of academia and their collegiate experiences, and the way Yevheniy stares and smiles to himself is a very familiar sight.

Shepard takes a sip of her hot chocolate, so warm, so…so _happy._

This is exactly where they’re supposed to be.

***

“Grunt the second,” Garrus jokingly suggests, and Shepard throws a pillow at him.

“James,” James offers with a smirk, and Shepard is promptly disappointed that she does not have another pillow she is willing to part with.

“Garrus, can you hit James with that for me?” Shepard asks, and Garrus does not hesitate to oblige. “Thanks. And that’s bad luck, Vega. Naming after the living. Not going there.”

She tries not to think of how many children across the galaxy were named after her immediately following the war.

But she _always_ tries not to think about _that._

No one ever suggests any names relating to Anderson or Ashley, or anyone else from their old crew who aren’t here to see this, just as no one ever suggests the names of the Shepards who’ve been lost.

That makes it too real.

It is still so terrifying to get attached.

Tali doesn’t say Rael and Joker doesn’t say Hilary. They each individually decide that those names are not for imposing upon anyone else.

And they both know those are names that are always with Shepard, anyway.

Kaidan loved his grandparents on both sides dearly, but he is content to leave them out of this.

Not that he spends much time thinking about it, even with how much better she’s been doing.

They are over halfway there, but it won’t be real until they cross the finish line.

_We’ll get there when we get there._

_When we get there._

_When._

_Not if._

“I’ve got a good one: mind your own damn business,” Steve says.

“That’s my favorite idea yet!” Shepard shouts, and that’s the end of that.

For now, anyway.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Shepard rapidly begins to whisper, waving an index finger around with shushing sounds. “Kaidan… _Kaidan.”_

He sits beside her and enthusiastically follows her hand, allows her to place it over her belly to feel…to feel _kicking._

It’s strong, too strong to miss. He’s loved watching her get excited over movement over the past weeks, and occasionally he could pick it up if he focused, but this is the first time he’s truly felt like he was a part of the experience.

“Oh my god,” he says quietly, cracking voice laden with pure awe.

“Maybe we should…” Steve starts, but Shepard shakes her head.

Kaidan is the only one who gets to touch, but she wants to share this with everyone.

Everyone is staring and this level of attention would normally be uncomfortable, but neither Shepard nor Kaidan mind. 

There is a strange tension, but it is nothing to do with the way all eyes are looking. It’s the fragile nature of this moment, of no one wanting to intrude, and of not knowing what to do with the burst of tentative optimism this brings forth.

“Hey, you think the kid’ll be biotic?” James eventually breaks the silence. “Does it work that way?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Kaidan laughs softly.

_When we get there._

_When._

“It’s been a long day,” Shepard notes. “Maybe I…”

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Tali says instantly.

“Thanks,” Kaidan replies.

They don’t always find another place to sleep when they visit, but this is probably a good time for them to have done so. Most everyone changes up whether they do or not; everyone save for James, Kelly, Joker, and Edi, who _always_ take their rooms there when they’re in the city (and Karin, who sleeps there whenever she’s needed). His parents have decided to stay for a little while, as well, so their house is getting very full.

It’s all preparation.

Their family’s getting bigger, and the bigger the family they get to share that with, the better.


	7. When

“You’re a fighter like your mother, aren’t you?” Kaidan smiles, counting kicks.

“You’re a lively one, that’s for sure,” Shepard says.

Karin said a few weeks back that they should start speaking to their child, start reading or even playing music.

When they read, they read Tennyson. They _always_ read Tennyson.

Vanessa, on the other hand, likes to interject with Carl Sagan, says she did the same with Kaidan. They allow it.

_“You’re a fighter like you’re mother.”_

This is becoming real, slowly but surely. This is almost real.

They’re more than six months in.

This is almost real.

“I’m never going to sleep again, am I?” Shepard laughs. “You already keep me up all night _now,_ I’m sure you’ll…”

It’s still not quite real enough.

“It’s okay, Carrie,” Kaidan assures. “You’ll be fine.”

Everything seems so normal. Or as normal as it can. _She_ isn’t normal, and that is why _this_ never could have been, but Shepard’s unique physiology notwithstanding, this is…

This is fine. This isn’t destined to end in tragedy.

Shepard has barely slept and she’s in so much pain she can hardly move. Karin keeps lecturing her on hydration, and everyone is yet tracking her eating habits. Her head’s been a mess, too, and her recent breathing troubles are every bit as related to anxiety spikes as they are to her lungs being crowded.

But she’s continued gaining weight the way she’s supposed to, she hasn’t had any potential catastrophes since she finally agreed not to push herself, and all of this _activity…_

A fighter like Shepard, Kaidan said.

_“Like your mother.”_

Shepard likes that.

Kaidan decides to lie down next to her. She hasn’t been up and around too much and while she’s been letting anyone who drops by come in, she will never not hate feeling trapped like this.

But she knows her priorities. She won’t take any more risks. She would rather be safe.

Miranda stops by every day to run more scans, trades data with Karin. And everything seems to be in order. Everything is going as well as it can.

This could be real. This is so close.

Jacob and Brynn haven’t been able to visit in person yet, but they are now in _constant_ correspondence. They always ask for updates, always say how excited their children are for “the big day.”

It’s getting closer and closer all the time.

One big family. All of them.

This is everything it should be.

“Hyphenated last name?” Shepard asks unexpectedly, the closest either of them have come to touching the subject. “Shepard-Alenko?”

“Oh god, I can see it now,” Kaidan laughs. “Teachers running down the name rosters and seeing without a doubt that they’ve got the first and second human Spectres’ kid in their class.”

“Do they give better grades if they know both the kid’s parents could kill them with their eyes closed?” Shepard is smiling, and Kaidan isn’t sure he’s ever found her so beautiful (and that is a damn high bar for him).

“What’s the point of saving the galaxy if your future child isn’t every teacher’s favorite on principle?” Kaidan follows with a smirk.

“My thoughts exactly.”

***

At seven months it seems to have become literally impossible to get comfortable.

James keeps buying more and more blankets, never able to get warm in this house anymore. He’s pretty sure the temperature in there drops another degree every day. But it’s because that’s what Shepard wants, so no one says a word.

“Are you drinking enough water?” Karin asks, and Shepard nods although she has also determined that there is clearly no such thing. “It’ll help with those headaches. Kaidan can even attest to that.”

“Yes, Mom,” Shepard sighs.

“Kaidan is making chicken soup,” Karin adds, knowing that will help.

“Good,” she replies sincerely, predictably.

Karin decides she is satisfied and jokes with Shepard that she can have a break from her now, and she knows Kelly will be popping in soon.

Karin and Miranda both have their concerns that she’s as high risk for preterm labor as she is for a potentially devastating postpartum depression, and everyone simply wants to be ready for anything.

It’s calmer since Miranda’s been here, though, and since Shepard has accepted this short term confinement.

“Hello, Shepard,” Edi says, standing in the doorway but not entering without permission.

“Hey, Edi,” Shepard greets her, and she slowly starts to sit. For difficult as it’s been to move around and as dangerous as excessive activity could be, Karin has also warned her at length about lying down for too long. They’re working together as well as they can on limited walking around the house and stretching, but it has—like everything—been quite the challenge.

“Can I be of assistance?” Edi asks as Shepard struggles, visibly in pain.

“No, thank you,” Shepard answers. She is able to sit up enough to lean back into a large cluster of pillows, and it’s not perfect but it’s as good as it’s likely to get.

She welcomes Edi to come over, to sit beside her.

“How are you feeling, Shepard?”

“Is that a joke?”

Shepard shakes her head and exhales an awkward laugh. “Sorry…”

“You look well,” Edi tells her. “That is _not_ a joke.”

It’s true, in its own way. Shepard has developed that oft referenced glow, and for as miserable as she can be it is evident how happy she is at the same time.

Every day she keeps on is a miracle. This entire experience is a miracle.

“Thanks,” Shepard responds. “How are you?”

“I am glad to be here,” Edi says. “There is something I would like to show you.”

Edi brings up her omni-tool, pulls up her identification. It’s an issue she has struggled with, figuring out her place in this new galaxy, down to such details as her very name.

“I have officially registered as a UNAS citizen,” Edi continues. “Jeff and I have decided that no matter where we go, we want _this_ to be our home.”

What catches Shepard’s eye most profoundly is that she has legally registered herself as Edi Moreau.

It’s not at all surprising, but it maintains an ongoing thought Shepard has had all since the war ended, an ongoing theme she will never tire of: over these past few years, everyone has been acting more on behalf of their hearts, has been less willing to let fear or overthinking get in their way.

She has been a phenomenal example of this trend, herself, she realizes, now more than ever.

“You’re a good friend, Edi,” Shepard smiles.

“I can never repay what you have done for me, Shepard,” Edi says. “But I am here in any way I can be, whatever you need.”

“I couldn’t lose you, Edi,” Shepard counters. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

The galaxy could be a very different place if it weren’t for Edi, that much is true, the primary factor in Shepard’s choice at the Catalyst.

It really is nothing, though. She knows these people would do anything for her, and she would do anything for them.

It’s just a damn shame that in terms of actual _ability,_ time has made it much harder for her to show it.

But Edi can never thank Shepard enough for her life, for her relationship with Joker, for her friendship.

Shepard was more instrumental in shaping the current state of the galaxy than anyone, and she doesn’t have to want to acknowledge it for it to stand that there are so many who will never forget it.

“But Shepard…thank you.”

***

“When did I become a glorified tabloid journalist?” Diana makes fun of herself. “The amount of time I have spent fighting over fluff pieces lately…”

“Don’t you want exclusive rights to news about me anymore?” Shepard chuckles. “I hear I still pull in an absurd amount of ratings.”

_“That,_ you do,” Diana admits. “I’ve got to get used to exclusive Shepard coverage being fluffy sometimes, I guess.”

“Me, too,” Shepard adds, and both of them laugh.

Diana hasn’t covered the kind of news she used to, though, because it isn’t there. Whenever there’s any more traditional _Battlespace_ style stories from the Traverse or the Terminus, she is first on the scene. Most of her job these days, however, revolves around krogan expansion and life after the genophage, regular updates from Rannoch, the many scientific breakthroughs of the Antigone Project, frequent “where are they now” type interviews with Shepard’s crew, and…Shepard.

Shepard, always their immovable center.

Diana had to scream her ass off at more than a few _actual_ tabloid journalists, though, after Shepard’s public scare, and that felt a bit more like old times. Apparently how nice the galaxy has been does not save them from the occasional hack reporter choosing credits over conscience.

“Hey, Shepard,” Samantha pokes in, politely knocking on the wall next to the open door.

“Shit, we’re going to be late for dinner, aren’t we?” Diana looks at Samantha, who nods.

“But for good reason,” Samantha adds, grinning.

“Good to see you both,” Shepard says.

“We’ll be back soon,” Samantha is quick to note. “You know it.”

And she does, she knows it. Because they are family, and they will never leave one another behind. Any of them.

One big family, all of them. The way it should be. The way it always will be.


	8. Reality

Shepard has never been so exhausted in all her life, and it is nothing short of astounding how much trouble she still has sleeping.

And when she does sleep, she dreams so vividly. This helps nothing.

“I think I would have made you proud,” she tells her mother. They are again in their old prefab on Mindoir, stuck somewhere around early 2170, even though in this scene Shepard is precisely as she exists in the present day, now a few months into 2193.

Her mother leans in and brushes hair out of her eyes, but she says nothing.

“I look so much like you,” Shepard whispers. She has her mother’s face almost exactly, but with the color of her father’s eyes and hair. But _everything_ else about her features mirror her mother’s, which makes it all the more jarring when she remembers it, after she once had it buried for so long.

Shepard sighs and looks down, looks at the growth she rests her hands over, feeling for the life inside.

“Huh, I wonder,” she muses, “I wonder who you’ll look—”

She wakes up before she can finish her sentence, eyes wide open.

“Carrie?” Kaidan shifts by her side, and she takes his hand without thinking, presses it to her belly, placing her other hand near his.

“Do you feel anything? I don’t feel anything…” She speaks quickly, panicked.

“Could be resting,” he tries to assure her. “Come on, how about you try moving.”

He got that idea from some book or another. In his time off, all he does is read—he reads about what she’s going through, about what to expect next. Of course he realizes he’ll never understand and that he cannot possibly be prepared, but he does his best. And it helps in moments like these.

“Your mother again?” Kaidan asks her explicitly once she’s sitting. He does not intend to be dismissive, and he hopes the fact that he is not entirely awake does not make him sound any less genuine in his concern.

“Yeah,” Shepard sighs. “I thought of how much I look like her, and it made me wonder who…who…and I don’t know, I couldn’t…”

No names, and—apparently—no faces.

She thinks of her mother, of _Hannah,_ but she cannot entertain the thought. Everything is too much and nothing is good enough.

She picks up a water bottle from the nightstand as soon as she is sitting up far enough, and Kaidan stays right with her, his hands remaining where she wants them to be.

“I felt _that,”_ he says with a smile at the sensation of a strong kick, and so did she. “You’re up now, huh?”

“Oh god, I already regret this,” Shepard makes fun of herself. “But I…I had to…I couldn’t…”

She can’t form the right words, but she doesn’t have to.

“I know, Carrie. I…I know.”

He understands.

_“You’re a fighter like your mother, aren’t you?”_

Kaidan’s words have stayed with her, almost as thoroughly as when he told her she’ll never find out what she’d do without him.

She hasn’t asked that in a while. She’ll have to do that soon, to seek the solace of that response which always fills her with contented warmth.

But for now, she fixes on _mother._

She’s going to be a mother, with less than two months to go (even if it all does go according to plan). Barring some disaster, she…

_No._

She is going to be a mother. _Is._ No maybes. Only hope.

Kaidan will be such a great dad.

He’s a fighter, too. Between the two of them and all of their resilience and sheer stubbornness, they both have fight in their blood, both have a lot of that fight to pass along.

She would like to imagine that genetics will favor Kaidan, that the resemblance will be more of his than of hers. She would _like_ to imagine. If she could allow herself.

Even with how advanced medical science has become, none of the detailed imagery that has come of Karin’s more recent scans can give them that much of an idea about their child’s appearance. Although, Shepard can also never bring herself to look at them, anyway.

But then, neither can Kaidan. They don’t talk about it.

Before Nesiah was born, Jacob couldn’t get enough of showing off ultrasounds to anyone and everyone who would look at them. He was not so aggressive with Horace’s, but that was simply because he wasn’t physically present often enough, and that did not stop him from sending out constant emails.

Shepard and Kaidan are keeping this part of it to themselves, however, almost as much as they are keeping it _from_ themselves.

They are sharing their home and their whole experience, and that is enough for everyone. No one pries, no one shows them anything but understanding.

It’s okay. It will be okay.

But until they know that for sure…

“There you go,” Kaidan laughs upon feeling more movement. “Oh wow…”

“I couldn’t have just left you alone, could I?” Shepard asks, but she grins all the same. It doesn’t matter as much to her as she knows it should how much she sleeps tonight, not after waking up in a panic as she did.

Because of course she couldn’t have left well enough alone. She doesn’t see herself ever being able to do so.

Another normal aspect of all she’s going through, according to Vanessa.

Kaidan takes back his hands and adjusts himself to lean over Shepard just enough to be able to touch her face, to gently run his thumbs over her cheekbones. He breathes her in, all of her, all of _this._ He kisses her softly, delicately but longingly, taking in everything, pouring all the love he has for her—for _them_ —into this.

He then moves back, rests his hands exactly where they were, exactly where they _belong._

Shepard keeps one hand close to Kaidan’s, and she brushes her fingers through his hair with the other. The slight static discharge it produces is comforting, grounding. It always has been.

 _“You_ should get back to sleep,” Shepard tells him after a long but comfortable silence.

“Carrie—”

 _“Kaidan._ Please. No migraines.”

He wants to argue but he knows she’s right, knows he has no room to. Staying up all night over her has led to migraine cycles in the past, after all, and he supposes it isn’t fair for her to be the only one risking sanity for the sake of physical health.

“I want to stay like this just a little longer,” he whispers, and she doesn’t blame him, and so she doesn’t fight him.

It is no surprise to her when he does fall asleep as he is, and she can’t help but smile when he does.

***

“It’s official, I’m transferring to the Antigone Project,” Samantha says, excited for the news. It’s been fully integrated into the Alliance military with a secondary location established in Point Grey.

“I’m _finally_ going to get to work on a project I’ve been after for years,” Samantha continues, practically giddy. “Ann and I have been putting together ideas on the rachni and QEC, and now we can make it happen!”

Shepard remembers when Samantha first had that thought, after freeing the rachni queen on Utukku, and Ann Bryson will make for the perfect collaborator.

This is good. This is all very good.

Chicken broth and a liter of water for dinner every single night for the past few weeks is good, too, or so Shepard internally tries to convince herself.

“And now I’ll be close by, if you ever need any help,” Samantha follows, and she sounds every bit as thrilled about this as she is about working for Antigone.

Kaidan nods at her, and neither he nor Shepard know how to respond. They haven’t discussed how much help they know they’re going to need. They haven’t discussed what happens when Shepard physically can’t do something and Kaidan is working, or how that is unfortunately an inevitability.

Shepard instead thinks too often of Bakara telling her of krogan women commonly taking their own lives following stillbirths.

Wrex sends the best emails about this, though, full of jokes about “Uncle Urdnot” being a bad influence, and how much he’s looking forward to providing “baby’s first shotgun.”

But she’s nearly eight months in and they have spent too much time taking it slow, living this moment by moment. Everything is happening so fast and nothing is planned for. They’ve been so caught up in fearing for the worst that they’ve neglected to take care of what is now the probability of this going well.

Right now they are with family, but Kaidan tells himself he has to bring this up. He isn’t sure if it’s actually better to plan for the best if this truly does prove to be a disaster, but he also tells himself that’s simply the anxiety talking and that he does not have time to listen.

Everything is, on the whole, falling into place. People are staying closer. Life is coming together in new ways, making it easier.

Easier. Better. Okay.

This will be okay.

This will all be _great._

***

“It is a justicar’s duty to protect the innocent,” Samara says. “The Code compels me to split my time between this place and Lesuss, if any help is necessary.”

“At least one of us is innocent, I guess,” Shepard laughs. “And I hope _you_ get to stay that way.”

“There are countless children alive today whose lives will likely be spared many horrors thanks to your intervention, Shepard,” Samara notes. “I have not always agreed with the actions you have taken, but giving your life for the galaxy is a worthy act of redemption.”

Shepard does not wish to keep Samara from Falere, though, not now that they have finally formed a real relationship. Samara spends most of her time with her these days, tending the monastery by her side.

Vrolik’s and Kepral’s syndromes, among many other diseases, have been eradicated by the synthesis, but it is impossible to know for sure if being ardat-yakshi is now a curable condition considering that the only known surviving sufferer would never take the risk of testing whether or not it still affects her.

Samara is so proud of her last daughter.

“Thank you,” is all Shepard has to say for the time being. Accepting offers of help implies that there will be anything to help with. And as it seems more and more likely by the day that this will be true, it is so difficult to adequately plan for.

Which is going to leave them completely fucked when the time comes if she keeps this up, she knows. She needs to keep talking to Kelly. She and Kaidan should probably talk to her together.

“You are already so loved, and you are not even here yet,” Samara smiles not at Shepard, although it is Shepard she looks towards. “May you never doubt this.”

Javik is the only one left Shepard has not heard from at all, but there is a decent chance he has legitimately not yet received the news. He did as he had joked after the war, setting up on Kahje and exploring a life of luxury. He could never have been content to remain that way, however, and he did later allow himself to touch his Echo Shard. This led to a crisis Shepard herself understood all too well, but she could not seem to talk him out of searching for the Cronian Nebula, seeking to lay down his life there with his former comrades. But he instead found purpose, most surprisingly, at the behest of Liara, and has ever since been extensively busy digging up as many old Prothean memories as possible and sharing his knowledge with as many of this “cycle” as he is able. Even with all of the history and culture the Reapers have come to share, Javik has remained a popular choice for universities across the galaxy to hire as a guest speaker.

(A job offer Shepard has repeatedly been subject to, herself, and one she keeps telling herself that eventually, someday, she will be able to bring herself to accept.)

Liara has checked in on him, and Shepard can’t remember what planet he was scheduled for last, but she has no doubt he’ll be in touch eventually.

Liara, as well, recently confessed that she and Feron have begun the discussion of children, but that they have now elected to hold off, teasing about how they do not wish to steal Shepard and Kaidan’s thunder.

“Yes, you are,” Shepard agrees tenderly. “Yes…yes, you are.”

Loved. Already so loved.

And _everyone_ has grown too attached.

These people would do anything for her, and now it seems they will do anything for _them._

It’s past time to talk about this as a reality. It is well past time.

***

Once again Shepard, nearly age 39, sits with the family she lost at 16. She sets the dinner table, but this time they are not on Mindoir. They are amidst that same dark, foggy forest landscape which has continuously haunted her dreams ever since the fall of Earth in 2186.

Kaidan is there, and her parents are making a grand point to show him special treatment. She does not remember for certain if they had actually been this way with guests, but it would not at all surprise her.

“You know, we’re originally from Canada, too,” her father tells Kaidan. “Funny how small the galaxy can be, huh? We’re from Labrador, though, nowhere near you…”

“Has your family always lived in Vancouver?” her mother cuts in, and she sets a large pot of soup down in the center of a table.

“No, Mom’s from Singapore, only moved to Vancouver for her Ph.D.,” Kaidan explains. “Dad’s been there a lot longer, though; his family moved from Ukraine when he was still a kid. You know, it’s funny, we actually got our last name from immigration paperwork getting messed up along the way, but my grandparents decided just to keep it the way it is now. A fresh start.”

“No siblings?” Shepard’s mother asks. Her brother Ezra, the youngest, is running around in circles, every bit as carefree as a four year old ought to be.

“No, I scared the hell out of them enough,” Kaidan laughs. “One of the first human biotics and all, you know. After I came out alright, they didn’t want to risk trying again.”

“Oh, like you’re gonna do, right?” Lydia, the oldest of Shepard’s younger siblings, stands in front of Kaidan. She looks so young and innocent, but she was always wise beyond her years.

Kaidan appears to stumble over how to reply, so Lydia speaks again. “I used to watch out for Carrie, but that’s your job now. You have to keep her safe.”

“Carrie gets _sad,”_ Wren, the youngest sister, adds. “Don’t let her be sad.”

“You’ve come such a long way since we’ve been gone, Carrie,” her father tells her. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Words they would never, ever have spoken, but that Shepard regularly wonders if they had been thought.

“I would’ve considered it a miracle to see you turn 18,” her mother notes. Her tone is so cheerful, despite the bite behind what she is saying.

This is not at all a reflection of the real Hannah and Aidan Shepard, but it stings to hear them talk this way all the same.

“But look at you now,” her mother continues, softer. “You really made something of yourself. You used your talents, built a career. Saved the galaxy. Wrote your memoirs. And now you’re married, and you’re going to be a mother. Messed up kid that you were, we never could have dreamed of the life you’ve had.”

Dreams of her parents explaining how broken she’s been and paraphrasing Kaidan. Sounds about right for her.

“I think I would have made you proud,” Shepard tells them yet again.

She tells them this a lot on nights like these.

“I know,” her father smiles. “I know you would have.”

“How many times have you defied death to get here?” Her mother, too, smiles at the question, and there is something so off about it, but at the same time it is somehow perfect. “You’ve changed the galaxy in a thousand different ways. There’s no way you can’t do this. You’re going to be amazing, sweetheart, I just know it.”

“Both of you,” her father adds. “You’ll both make great parents.”

“And we would have loved you so much,” her mother says directly to Kaidan. “I wish we could be here to see this.”

“Me, too,” Shepard sighs. “Me, too…”

It is an oddly welcome familiarity, waking up in tears with Kaidan already attending to her.

Kaidan will be such a great dad.

He will be.

He _will._

“Hey,” he whispers, drawing her to him from wherever her mind may be. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He knows she’ll talk to him, that she’ll tell him what’s wrong, but he’s learned well enough over the years that he doesn’t need the details to be able to set the stage for getting through to her. Calming, grounding, reassurance—his hyperempathy doesn’t always seem like a gift, but in times like these…

And there are so many times like these to make him appreciate that empathy as much as he possibly can. Because he is, he is always there, he’s always got her. He always will. Until the end of time.

She never likes being called a survivor. Something about it never fails to strike a nerve, to make her cringe. But that’s how he sees her, even if he isn’t sure he can say it.

And that’s what helps him believe more and more each day that they’ll get through this, that everything is going to be okay. Because she is a survivor. Because she is such a fighter.

It doesn’t need to be easy. Nothing between them ever is. And that’s a part of what makes it theirs—and yet another reason he now believes it will be alright in the end.

Because he believes in her, always has. So he can believe in this.

They can have this.

He gets up and walks over to the other side of the bed so he can face her, lying on his side and taking her into his arms.

She buries her face into his chest and he runs a hand up and down her back. This is routine, and that’s fine.

It’s theirs.

And it’s real.

Shepard feels it as much as she fears it. She’s never before understood the galaxy’s insistence on praising her as a “survivor,” but now…

She has endured, and she has accomplished.

Survivor. Marine. Survivor. N7. Commander. Spectre. Hero. Survivor. Wife. Mother.

“Kaidan…” Her voice shakes just as she does, low and breathy, and Kaidan wraps his hands around the soft trembling in hers. “Kaidan, we really need to talk, don’t we?”

“Yeah…yeah, we do. Morning, okay?”

“Morning. Okay. It’s going to be okay…right?”

He kisses her forehead, presses his nose against hers.

They are so close they can almost touch it. It’s time to make the most of it.

It’s time to make this real. It’s time to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversation between fereldandoglords and me about this fic before any of it was posted and they had been given virtually no details aside from the base premise—  
> Me: Only I could make a Shenko pregnancy fic such a fucking angst factory.  
> Them: Sounds exactly right.
> 
> :p
> 
> Also, re: the Alenko name, that's a headcanon I've held for a long time since I've seen it stressed that it can't be quite a legit Ukrainian surname, but I actually used to know someone that exact thing happened to (her first name is legally misspelled because it got fucked up in the States from the Cyrillic alphabet). His family name in my world here was Danilenko (Даніленко) in Ukraine, just because it aesthetically makes the most sense to me, and it's not like BioWare ever seems to be consistent about how translators work so… ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> And now wish me luck making the finishing touches on the final two chapters by tomorrow, ahah! Unfortunately I ended up with the minor setback of spending a large chunk of yesterday in the hospital so yeah, good times. :/


	9. Life

“We didn’t uproot our whole lives for anyone else like this,” Shepard says. “Why should they do it for us?”

Of course, she knows why. She knows she knows why.

These people would do anything for her.

Legion once said that there was no true distinction between the Normandy and its crew, and Shepard has always agreed with this.

And it becomes clearer and clearer all the time that she was not simply the commander of the ship itself, but the matriarch of the family the name has become so synonymous with.

She is far more ready for what’s to come than she knows, and she has been for a very long time.

“You know, Shep, I’m not sure it counts as _uprooting_ if you’ve never stayed in one place long enough to have…well, _roots,”_ Kasumi counters.

“What, you’re going to settle down?” Shepard laughs. “You?”

“Not me, no,” Kasumi admits. “Not sure I’m the best influence to have around, anyway. ‘Aunt Kasumi, best thief in the galaxy’ doesn’t exactly have the best ring to it.”

“You’re still Aunt Kasumi, no matter what,” Shepard notes. “But maybe we should spare _some_ details, sure.”

“Thanks, Shep,” Kasumi smiles. “And hey, I may not be one for settling down in the long term, but I can always sit long enough to help out around here whenever you need it. If I have time to spare, you’re free to steal as much of it as you like.”

“That was terrible,” Shepard chuckles. “Get that one from Joker?”

“No, came up with it all on my own,” Kasumi tells her. “I thought it might make you laugh.”

“You win,” Shepard replies.

“Yes, Shep. I do.”

***

It is probably worth mentioning that this is the first time in six years James has not insisted on throwing Shepard a birthday party.

(Even in 2188, when he was in N7 training for the actual date, he talked her into having a small belated get together in celebration upon his return.)

No one does mention it, however.

What James also has yet not mentioned is that he and Kelly have been talking for years about finding their own place in Vancouver, also somewhere overlooking English Bay if they can. And what he now really _needs_ to mention is that last week they closed on an apartment, right in Kitsilano, this same neighborhood, only a couple of streets over from this house.

And here, the timing for bringing up _that_ detail could not be more perfect.

“Happy birthday, Lola.” James sits across from her at the dining room table, and he smirks and slides her a datapad.

She looks like she’s in pain, even by her standards. But her face lights up when she realizes what she’s reading.

“James, I…”

“Everything’s changing around here,” he says. “We’re just moving with the tides, yeah?”

“Everything’s changing around _me,”_ she breathes out deeply, shaking her head. It isn’t as though this is the first time. “I can’t ask—”

“You didn’t,” he interrupts.

She’s right, though, it is _her_ everything’s been shifting towards. The Alliance will give her anything she could ever ask for, along with everything she never would. Ever since she came back, she has practically become the singular center of the galaxy, whether she likes it or not.

She has no idea how long Hackett had been trying to acquire the Antigone Project, neither does she know that the reason negotiations took as much time as they did was because Miranda insisted upon finding room near Shepard for its new location, and that was a process all to itself after how much space the new Ascension School took up.

Shepard and Kaidan have joked in the past about the size of their house, about how they could easily have everyone move in with them, be one big happy family permanently under one roof. It was always a joke, but sometimes it’s hard to say for certain if that’s still the case.

This, though… _this_ is perfect.

“Kelly’s on site working on setting up her new clinic right now,” James explains. “I’ll still be going wherever Hackett sends me, but right now that’s here. And as long as I’m nearby, I am _always_ on call. You need me, Lola, you say the word. Don’t care when or what it is.”

“Hackett could just assign you as my escort again and get it over with,” Shepard laughs, but then she sees the look in James’s eyes. “No, wait, Vega, I’m kidding, please don’t _actually_ ask for—”

“No promises,” he cuts in, and she legitimately cannot tell if he’s seriously considering this or not. She decides it’s best not to question.

It will never be everyone around her at all times, though, she knows. Kasumi won’t ever settle down, neither will Zaeed or Javik. Liara’s a long shot, too, although she’s been happy to stay on Thessia as much as she can, and she and Feron even have a house there now. Garrus has revealed that he’s to be settling down, but that’s on Rannoch with Tali. Diana and Samantha officially live on the Citadel but neither of them are ever there for very long at a time. Wrex’s place is on the Citadel and on Tuchanka, the latter remaining Grunt’s permanent home, as well. Jacob and Brynn are up in the air on whether they’ll be staying on Horizon or relocating to Vancouver, but many at Antigone are confirmed as staying where they are. Miranda, herself, will be splitting her time. On the other hand, Joker would abandon anything for Shepard, of course, as history has proven, and Edi would unquestionably follow. Gabby and Ken have been doing well, though, as has Adams, floating around from Alliance ship to Alliance ship, working on their systems along with training new engineers. But Steve, much like James and Joker, has been reworking all he can to stay close to Shepard.

This is family. These people would do anything for her.

And while he hasn’t physically shown himself, care packages from Zaeed are coming in more and more frequently all the time. When pressed he mentioned something about having a lot he could never make up for, but wouldn’t elaborate.

But that’s okay. This is okay.

The Normandy truly is more than a ship, it’s its crew, wherever they may go. And it would seem that the city of Vancouver has become the new Normandy, no matter what the original actual ship is up to these days. And the Normandy is home.

These people are home.

“Oh fu—ah,” Shepard hisses, wincing in pain.

“Lola?”

“It’s fine, James, I…I’m fine.”

Karin has assured her over and over that abdominal splitting in pregnancy is not terribly out of the ordinary. But where the problem—or, at least, most of the pain—comes in is that there is no “normal” in terms of one being so filled up with tech keeping them alive that it also continuously prevents such splitting from happening. She’s been feeling this for weeks, and at eight months she has developed the lovely addition of recurring Braxton Hicks contractions, leaving her the kind of mess she hadn’t been for a while and had not missed.

“James,” she starts after what is hopefully the worst of this episode has passed. She looks up at him, no longer nearly doubled over in her seat, and she reaches across the table for him, and he takes her hand as prompted. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You and me both, Lola. You and me both.”

***

“‘It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch,’” Shepard recites to herself. She is sitting on the couch and surrounded by family, but for a moment she seems to have forgotten that she is not alone, and that she is trying so hard to worry less.

But she has been so lost in thought, both in her persisting anxieties and in, apparently, what Vanessa refers to as “pregnancy brain.”

No one is fazed by it, though. This simply happens sometimes.

It’s a quote from one of the meditations before the Mourners’ Kaddish, from her digital copy of the _Mishkan T’filah,_ the prayer book her mother had held so dear in life, which Kelly tracked down for her some years back.

“Hey, Shepard, don’t talk like that,” Steve says, reminding her of where she is and who she’s with.

“You do know the kid can hear you, right?” Joker adds.

“I don’t think _the kid_ understands what I’m saying,” Shepard retorts, and she does not mean to sound nearly so cold.

“Yeah, so that’s not why you’ve been watching your language lately, right?” Steve points out, and he has her there.

They’re acting like this is real. It scares the hell out of her yet (a fearful thing, indeed), but they are all acting as though they know for a fact this is real.

She and Kaidan finally had that much needed talk, finally started working out how much help she’s going to need after he goes back to work. James and Kelly are not the only ones who’ve volunteered themselves so readily, either, with Joker and Steve stepping up as eagerly as anyone could have expected. Kaidan’s parents, too, are more than willing to be there for as long as she needs, and Jack has all but offered to set up shop with them full time. In her case, the only barrier keeping her from going all in that way is her ongoing offer to cover for Kaidan at Ascension, and Shepard already feels like she’s asking too much of everyone.

She didn’t ask, of course, and everyone is always quick to remind her of that, but it weighs on her all the same.

More than she has in a long time, she is counting names, mourning all the losses for which she faults herself.

Names matter, and she and Kaidan are still so stuck on that point.

Andrea’s name is an homage to Anderson, and this has taken some pressure off of Shepard to find a way to dedicate this to him. Not that anyone but herself was pressuring her, but she and Kaidan both know they need to address this subject sooner than later.

“Tell that to the krogan,” Wrex chimes in. He’s only here for a couple of days, but he made damn sure to take the time to see her.

“What, do I not count as krogan anymore?” Shepard teases, but Wrex isn’t laughing.

“No, Shepard, you’re a distant mother to millions of us,” he says. “And your fears now? You’re more krogan than ever. But after what you did for _us_ …you’re still krogan as far as I’m concerned, and thanks to you, the krogan are free. So you get the same. Because Uncle Urdnot said so, dammit.”

“You can thank Mordin Solus for that, not me,” she replies nonchalantly.

“We have,” Wrex reminds her. Urdnot Mordin is another memorial, another point of pressure having been relieved. “My people will never forget that little pyjak, but you, Shepard… _you…”_

“You always find a way, Shepard,” Steve says lightly. 

Kaidan is quiet. He is sitting beside Shepard, especially introspective. He is watching, listening…worrying.

“It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch” always makes him think of _her,_ of how death has already touched her twice, of how he couldn’t bear to lose her again. But he isn’t, he isn’t losing anyone in this, and he’s even beginning to believe it when he reminds himself.

As far as they count it, they’ve been together for ten years. They’ve never decided on an “official” anniversary, their mutual attraction aboard the Normandy SR-1 going hand in hand with their chase after Saren making the entire process more than a little bit of a mess. But there were feelings from the moment they met, at the very end of 2182, and it did not take long after their first fight together on Eden Prime, on New Year’s Day, for them each to realize they couldn’t stand for anything to happen to the other, that they were _destined_ to become more than squadmates. But even with how long it took them to act, and even with Shepard losing two years entirely so soon after they finally did, and even after Shepard followed up those lost years by sleeping around, leading on both Kelly and Thane and getting into far too much trouble on Omega and the Citadel before reconciling with Kaidan after Mars—no, despite it all, early 2183 is when it started. It’s been undeniably tumultuous at times, but it’s theirs and they wouldn’t trade it for anything.

It’s been ten years and that seems so short when he considers the ride it’s been. Seeing so much death and destruction, living through the greatest war in 50,000 years, a few critical injures, too many emotional collapses to count, learning to cope with disability, alcoholism, self-harm, finding out that he’d nearly lost her another time in how close she came during her time in the brig…not even to mention those times she literally did die and miraculously returned.

Miraculous, indeed, in every moment.

Their time together has been hard, but it truly has been nothing short of a miracle.

And that is how he can believe now. That is how he keeps himself going through his anxieties.

For her. For them.

For _them._

It is a fearful thing. It is a blessing.

***

“I owe you an apology,” Shepard tells Liara. This is a conversation she’d never dreamed of having, but here they are.

“Whatever for, Shepard?” Liara’s confusion is genuine, which makes this that much harder somehow.

“I…shi—okay…” She feels silly every time she catches herself before her mouth goes off lately, especially since Steve called her out on it, but she has no intention of going about this any other way now.

“Liara,” she starts again. She is so nervous, and she keeps her hands to her belly, reminding herself who this discussion is for. “I used to be so _angry…”_

“I know,” Liara interjects. “I never faulted you for it. I know that what I did was, in a sense, wrong. Although, I had always hoped at least some part of you understood why I did it. Otherwise, I cannot imagine you continuing to keep me around all these years.”

“I did…sort of,” Shepard tells her. “But I…I hated you for a little while. I can’t even say I wouldn’t have done the same for someone I loved if I had the chance because I honestly don’t know, but…Cerberus, Liara? You had to have some idea what that would put me through.”

“Shepard, I—”

“But I know, it was Cerberus or the Collectors,” Shepard cuts in. “I know. And I could never have asked you to just destroy what you found of me…even if it weren’t already too late. Running from both Cerberus _and_ the Shadow Broker, I can’t imagine.”

“But?”

“But I didn’t have to like it.”

She neglects to mention how close she’d come to shooting Liara in the back after she learned how her remains had reached Cerberus. She had been so taken aback, so filled with rage over feeling so betrayed that for a fleeting moment she did not care about how cowardly and cold blooded such an act of murder would have been. She was able to hold herself back before she did anything she’d regret, but it’s never stopped haunting her that she could have done it.

“But,” Shepard starts again, “I…I think I can be grateful now, for what you did. I think maybe it really was the right choice.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Liara smiles warmly, and there is an understanding that it is Shepard she is truly glad for.

This may be the very first time she has ever heard Shepard refer to her survival as a positive, and she could not be happier about _that._

***

“Sorry I’m not gonna make it, paperwork’s a bitch,” Jacob chuckles over vid comm. “Plus, Brynn’s been working overtime, so I’m the one who has to stay home with the kids.”

“You love it, though,” Shepard points out. “Don’t pretend for a second you’re complaining.”

“Yeah, alright,” he concedes easily enough. “I miss my people over there, sure, but I’ve got to take care of my people here, too. You understand.”

“You and Brynn ever going to get married?” Shepard smiles at him. “I remember you talking about it…”

“Yeah, well, _someone_ never got me that private time on the Presidium before the Citadel got blown all to hell.” Jacob is laughing, and that makes Shepard laugh, too.

“It’s not too late, you know,” she tells him. “They’ve got those cherry trees back up and everything.”

“Maybe someday,” he replies. “Right now, it’s all about the family, however we define it. Being there for them, providing for them, being a better father than I had. That’s what matters most.”

That’s what matters most.

“If you ever want me to call in some favors, let me know,” she laughs some more. “But in the meantime…you’re a good man, Jacob. And a great dad. Say hi to Brynn and the kids for me.”

“Yeah, I will,” he says with a nod. “And I was told to say hi to Aunt Shepard and the—how did Nesiah say it—ah yeah, the ‘upcoming cousin,’ too.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Jacob.”

“You bet.”

***

“‘The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena,’” Vanessa quotes from her favorite Carl Sagan speech, as Shepard has heard her do countless times. “Huh, if humanity had never left, we wouldn’t have _you,_ would we?”

She’s not wrong, and it seems she will never fail to be astonished by it. After all, she is old enough to remember a time when humanity still believed they could be alone in the galaxy. But now they’re here, her son having met her daughter-in-law in space, fighting both against and beside aliens, living a life that had once felt like only a far off fantasy.

“Preserving and cherishing ‘the pale blue dot’ hasn’t changed, though,” Shepard says, and Vanessa’s face lights up. She loves Sagan like Ashley loved Tennyson.

And she has recently nicknamed the baby “Starstuff.” Both Kaidan and Shepard always grin when she says it, although neither repeat it.

Maybe later, when this part is all over.

When.

_When._

Vanessa will be thrilled to hear it in real use, too, so it might be more satisfying to save it, anyway.

Kaidan’s parents were married on the same month and day that the famous “pale blue dot” image was captured. Kaidan and Shepard were married on the same month and day of Anderson’s birth. Everything has meaning. Everything matters.

Count the dates, count the names.

Love the Earth, love the stars.

Take nothing for granted.

***

“Beachfront property,” Tali says excitedly, telling Shepard of her new home, the one she’s building with Garrus. “Like I said. Seems admiralty has its perks, after all.”

“I’m happy for you,” Shepard replies. “Really.”

“I know,” Tali says with a smile. “We’ve all come so far, haven’t we?”

“Ten years does a lot to a person, I guess,” Shepard sighs.

“Ten years and one Shepard,” Tali teases. “The ancestors really were looking after me the day we met. Maybe they’re watching after you, too.”

The clock is ticking. It hurts, all of it hurts all the time, and she can yet be such an emotional wreck. But the clock keeps ticking. It hasn’t stopped. And she is so close to the finish line.

“I’m starting to think _someone_ has to be,” Shepard quietly responds.

“There isn’t any other explanation for you, is there?” Tali laughs, and Shepard shakes her head.

“No…no, there’s really not.”

Shepard looks exhausted, more even than she always does anymore, so Tali decides it’s a good time to call it for the evening.

“I can’t wait until you’re old enough for your first vid night with Aunt Tali,” she notes before she moves to leave. “We are going to have _so_ much fun.”

“Oh, I bet you are,” Shepard smiles.

 _“Keelah se’lai,_ Shepard.”

Reclamation of the homeworld has not altered the traditional quarian greeting of well wishes, although the meaning and impact have changed significantly. There is still no true translation and it isn’t officially any different from what it was once was, but it now carries the implication of victory instead of desire, of winning instead of longing.

“And _keelah se’lai,_ Starstuff.”

It’s catching on. Of course it’s catching on.

As the clock keeps on ticking.

***

“So when are _you_ moving here?” Shepard asks Steve with a vaguely sarcastic laugh.

He could probably do it and she would love that, but she could never simply _ask,_ not seriously. No matter how much she wants it.

“I’ve been looking at a place in Shaughnessy…” He knows she didn’t truly _expect_ anything like this out of him, but he is also sure she’s not at all surprised by it. Just as he knows that this will make her happy, even if she never will be able to fully understand the loyalty and dedication of their family to her.

“Not sure how often I’ll be there if I get it, but…I wouldn’t want to settle anywhere else. I worry about you, Shepard.”

That last part comes off as an unintended confession, sounds like it slipped out if its own accord. But it’s far from the first time he’s said it, and it is certainly far from the last.

“I know,” she accepts, much to both of their surprise. “I’m lucky to have you, Cortez.”

He feels like the lucky one, but he doesn’t vocalize it. He only smiles, and she leans into him on the couch, letting herself enjoy having him nearby, the when and the how irrelevant.

***

The eighth month is slowly meeting its end. Karin continues to watch her more and more closely as the countdown keeps on, Miranda yet always close behind.

Kelly is always next in line, making sure she is holding up mentally as well as physically.

And Jack had brought Andrea by again earlier, which was wonderful but terribly draining. So it is nice to wind down with Kaidan and only Kaidan, to have a little time with only each other while they still can.

And everyone took the hint and found something else to do for the night without question.

These people would do anything for her.

“‘Sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, when I put out to sea,’” Kaidan reads. Tennyson. Always Tennyson. “‘But such a tide as moving seems asleep, too full for sound and foam, when that which drew from out the boundless deep turns again home.’”

Ashley had once joked with Shepard about promising she and Kaidan would someday name a child after her. It was the first time Shepard had let herself realize this is love, but Ashley was the first of them to put the word to it, and she swore she wouldn’t say anything to anyone else.

They both wish so much that she were here for this. So sharing her in this way will have to be enough.

(It could never be enough.)

“‘Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark!’” Shepard takes over. “‘And may there be no sadness of farewell, when I embark; for tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place the flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face when I have crost the bar.’”

“‘Ulysses’ again?” Kaidan asks once she’s finished, but he already knows the answer.

“‘Ulysses’ again,” Shepard confirms. She has become particularly partial to “The Charge of the Light Brigade” but they have both agreed that this is not a particularly child-friendly piece, especially with both Shepard and Kaidan’s histories being what they are.

“Came through the jaws of Death, back from the mouth of hell” is, after all, a bit _too_ on the nose for them.

“Ulysses” is different, though, and it always will be. Aunt Ash will be there for this child, no matter what, and they will see to that.

***

“Do you think we should visit Mindoir someday?” Shepard asks. Eight months, three weeks. So close. They are so close.

“You know, in…in the future? See where I come from?”

“Only if you want to,” Kaidan tells her. She looks uncomfortable bringing it up, but it must be important to her if she is.

He knows she’s been to Mindoir since the raid. He knows she’s kept ties to the colony, that she went so far as to volunteer with rebuilding there when she was young. But she’s admitted that she was there because she felt like she had to be, because she felt like she owed them that much, and that she felt nothing at the time. But back then she was so disconnected from everything, so deliberately numb to both her past and her present. It would be different to see it now, he’s sure. But that’s something to talk about later. Much later.

And she still hates that they changed the name of the capital to Shepard after the war. She gave their government her blessing, but she still hates it. This is certainly a conversation for another day. But she had to bring it up while the thought was fresh in her mind, otherwise she risked sitting with it forever and letting it silently eat at her.

In reality, it’s a conversation to have with Kelly. So for now, they file it away. But they don’t forget about it.

They can’t forget about it.

***

One day short of nine months exactly.

One more day and she’s made it.

She knows that exact due dates are rarely met, yes, but it still matters that she’s made it. It matters that she is _here._

This feels like hope. This feels like accomplishment.

This feels like winning nearly a year’s worth of battles. This feels like standing at the precipice of finishing a war.

Not that she necessarily _wants_ to compare the birth of her child to the end of the Reaper War, but…

There are undeniable parallels, and she is far from the only one to think about it like this.

So much pain, so much terror, so much…

_So much to fight for._

Everyone who was aboard the Normandy when the Citadel’s arms opened that fateful day remember hearing Hackett’s astonished, “Holy shit, she did it.” None among them had ever believed anything could top _that_ moment, that pure awe and nigh reverence over what she had just pulled off. But that was before she somehow came back to them yet again.

And that was before…that was before _this._

And at least as far as Shepard is concerned, _this_ will be her most important success of all.

Everyone is counting the days, counting the hours. Everyone is watching, waiting.

There is an excitement almost tangible within this house.

There is a hope and anticipation of such extremes none of them had ever expected to feel again.

***

It’s been nine months and one week.

 _No one_ expected this.

And of course, Karin and Miranda are growing increasingly concerned.

“A few more days, _please,”_ Shepard begs when Karin suggests that it’s time to induce labor.

“Shepard, we don’t want your tech holding on to anything it shouldn’t be,” Miranda tells her, and Shepard won’t hear it.

“Just a few more days,” she insists.

“Why would we do that?” Karin asks outright.

She does not ask what Shepard is so afraid of, although that is the look she gives off. She realizes Shepard is terrified of both the best and worst case scenarios of what’s almost here, but she is also sure Shepard must be longing to get this over with, after all the pain this is causing her.

Shepard feels silly holding on like this if she can. She has never been superstitious, aside from her adherence to Ashkenazi naming traditions, but this…

“I want to wait until the 18th…if we can,” she admits quietly. _“Eighteen,_ it means…it means _life._ In Hebrew, the same characters that make the word ‘life’ make the number eighteen and it’s ridiculous, I know, but…please…”

She is _pleading,_ desperate to make herself clear. Names are mostly out of respect for her roots more than anything, but this feels _different._

And she needs that, she needs to grasp onto all the extra luck she can get. And she might have the chance for the perfect date, so she has to take it.

“Fine,” Karin acquiesces. “But expect us to be keeping a closer eye on you.”

She didn’t think _that_ was possible at this point, but she will accept it.

 _“L’chayim,”_ she smiles and raises an empty mug from the nightstand beside her.

To life.

There will be life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I had to throw in Shepard actually having a birthday in a fic dedicated to her birthday. You know, just as a matter of principle. ;)


	10. Bashert

There has never before been anything particularly special about the month of May, but the 18th has come and that means _everything._

And that means it is _time._

Today is the day, the perfect day.

They are so happy to have made it this far.

They are so afraid.

“It’ll be okay,” Kaidan whispers, and god knows they _both_ need to hear it.

Karin has talked Shepard into checking into that hospital she’s settled down in for her day job, staying with Shepard but stressing that this is not her area of expertise and that she is therefore not comfortable trying to handle it without additional medical staff. Miranda is with them, as well, monitoring her implants to be safe.

And it’s started.

Everything is happening.

This is _real._

They began the process around 5:00pm the night before, Shepard doing all she could to ensure they would get this perfect day.

She is so excited. She is so fucking scared.

As is Kaidan, albeit silently. Today he wants no more than to be a pillar, to be her foundation. Today he wants nothing more than to be there for her, to see her through this.

So he cannot panic, cannot cry, cannot show his own fears. That won’t help anyone and she is clearly in so much more pain than he.

Even if he is legitimately convinced she’s going to break his damn hand.

As expected, he is the only layperson allowed in with her. No one else even came to the hospital at all, leaving them their space, but everyone who is in the city is camped out at their house, ready and waiting.

And after a combination of medications and invasive procedures (they all want this _out,_ and no one is fucking around), it seems they may not have too much longer to wait.

Roughly thirteen hours in, and Shepard is _screaming._

She is no stranger to pain and the past nine months have been especially trying, but now…

Kaidan is thoroughly convinced she’s going to break his damn hand.

But if she does and she needs his other one after, it’s hers.

It’s probably only half the god awful physical pain that is causing her to cry out the way she is. Karin keeps shouting at her to breathe. Karin is only as worried as the rest of them.

Miranda is quiet, only present to lend as much of _her_ expertise as she can if it is deemed necessary. All of them, Miranda herself included, hope that it is not.

It’s all in motion. Her body is as ready for this as it is ever going to be.

She wanted to do this without drugs if she could, due to concerns of interfering with her body chemistry given how profoundly physically anomalous she is, along with her personal concerns of how they may make her feel in relation to her history of substance abuse, despite how far in the past it is.

Of course, she really should have known better.

She whimpers without care when the medication rushes her, but she does not loosen her grip on Kaidan. She can’t. She needs him.

They’ve decided on a low dose so she is not yet without immense pain, but it’s a relief.

She shifts from screaming, however, into sobbing, overwhelmed as she is.

“Implants still only affecting Shepard,” Miranda affirms after a nurse requests a scan and an update. “But they _are_ beginning to react to all this physical stress. She’s getting hot; the sooner we get this done, the better.”

She grips Kaidan’s hand even harder and _oh god,_ but he can’t complain.

“‘O soul, make merry and carouse, dear soul for all is well,’” Kaidan whispers. Tennyson, more Tennyson. His voice is sweet, tender, sanative.

Ashley would be so proud.

“‘We’re made of star stuff,’” Shepard hisses in return, forcing herself through gritted teeth to engage with him. But she is able to think clearly enough to pick this one out quite deliberately; for Starstuff, Vanessa’s already (however tentatively) beloved nickname. “‘We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.’”

“And we’ll know Starstuff soon enough,” Kaidan insists. It is the first time either of them have said it in this context.

But it’s okay. They are at the precipice, this is truly about to be real.

“‘For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love,’” Shepard picks out another Sagan quote, the most perfect possible quip for these past several hours through to this very second.

“Bearable only through love” does so beautifully describe what she is experiencing right now.

“Oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

As does _that,_ however less eloquently.

There goes watching her language. Not that anyone will fault her.

“Okay, Shepard,” Karin speaks up. “Come on.”

“You can do this,” Kaidan tries his best. “I’m right here. I’ve got y—”

He is very seriously going to have to ask Karin to check him for fractures later.

He doesn’t care. He wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Karin alternates between demanding she breathe and demanding she push, providing moral support while overseeing those nurses whose names neither Shepard nor Kaidan ever learn.

The pain is astronomical, she doesn’t know how she keeps herself going. This has been nearly a year of pure hell and she is fumbling towards panic, she is so afraid she can’t do this, she is so afraid of how this will end…she is so afraid, she is in so much pain, she is so afraid, she is in so much pain, she is…

She hopes she can be half the parent hers were. She will likely never truly fully remember them, the trauma of losing them the way she did never leaving her, but she knows they were so good to her. She knows she loved them so much, and she knows they deserved it.

She hopes she can be half the kind of parent Kaidan’s are.

All of this hurt, all of this anxiety…

All of this literal blood, sweat, and tears…

And then, it is over.

At 6:58am she comes out crying, prompting Kaidan to do the same, to let his emotions overtake him at last, the sound of it harmoniously following those of his wife and child. They are completely unashamed, lost to this moment entirely.

And in this moment, it has all been worthwhile.

The greatest challenge, the greatest reward.

Mother and child are frantically checked over, medically assessed before they can move forward.

Everyone is healthy. Miraculously, they are both just fine.

And all either Shepard or Kaidan want is to hold her, to finally get to touch what death did not.

Miranda is given the honor of cutting the cord, and Shepard tries her damnedest to protest Karin taking the baby to get cleaned up, but Shepard is instead offered swift promises that this will not take long, that everything is okay.

Everything is okay.

That’s what matters most.

***

This space is cleared as soon as first skin-to-skin contact is made. All personnel are keeping close to the room, but for now it is only the three of them within it.

For now, it is peaceful and still.

For now, everything is beautiful and nothing can break it.

Through all these years, through everything… _this_ is what they were always destined for, _this_ is exactly where they are meant to be.

And they can’t stop staring, captured by awe.

She has Shepard’s nose, and Kaidan’s everything else.

_Good._

“Starstuff,” Shepard mutters quietly, now that it is finally safe to say it.

Now that they finally know, they are _safe._

And their _Starstuff_ is the only one of them who has managed to stop crying, resting against Shepard’s bare chest.

This is unlike any feeling they have ever known, this calm far more powerful than any storm they have ever braved over the course of the last decade to get here.

“She’s beautiful,” Kaidan whispers. “Carrie, she’s…”

 _“Ani ohevet otach,”_ Shepard says from nowhere. It comes from the deepest recesses of some lost memory of her mother, she’s sure it must. She can’t quite place it, but she has to wonder how often her mother had said it to her. It must have been enough, for her to remember it now. It must have been enough, but not nearly as often as she is sure that she will say it to this child. “I love you.”

“What was the word for ‘love’?” Kaidan asks, his thought process obvious.

“I…I don’t know,” she sighs, this tender flash of recollection only carrying her so far.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures her. “We could…we could call her Ani. We’ll know what it means.”

“Yes,” she agrees easily. He’s right, they’ll know what they mean by it, and it feels like it fits exactly. “Kaidan, it’s…it’s perfect.”

“It’s perfect,” Kaidan’s voice cracks.

“I wish Ash were here,” Shepard says heavily. There are many wounds time cannot heal. “You know, she once made me promise we’d name a kid after her. I know she was joking, but…I really wish she could see this, Kaidan.”

“Me, too,” he sighs. “Ashley doesn’t flow too well as a middle name, though.”

But he likes the idea of it. He likes the thought of making her a part of this, of fulfilling an old promise regardless of its intentions. And he knows, too, how important Shepard finds this tradition from her long lost roots.

From what’s gone but not quite forgotten, kept close after all this time.

They never could bring themselves to talk about names before, but now they’re here. Now it’s real, and it’s okay.

There is a beat, and then two deep breaths in perfect sync, before they exclaim as one, _“Madeline.”_

It does not so effortlessly roll off the tongue, either, but it’s right.

It’s perfect.

Ani Madeline Shepard-Alenko.

And they are happy, as happy as they ever can be. Neither Kaidan nor Shepard had ever dreamed they could be so happy.

They will always have their ups and downs, just like anyone, and theirs will always be more drastic than average.

But they have each other, and they have _this,_ and that is more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bashert_ is a Yiddish word that means "destiny," and it is often used in the context of soulmates. I really love this word in general, but I also dearly love applying it to Carrie and Kaidan because nerd, ahaha. _Bashert_ was actually strongly in the running for the title of the whole fic, but in the end it felt the most right to reserve it specifically for this chapter.
> 
> Also, for anyone curious, the actual Hebrew word for love is _ahava,_ conjugated here into _ohevet._ Unfortunately, Hebrew is a gendered language and "love" changes based on the gender of the speaker (where "you" changes based on the gender of the recipient; so if Kaidan were the one to say it to Ani, he would say _"ani ohev otach,_ " but if Carrie were to say it instead to Kaidan, it would be _"ani ohevet otcha"_ in that instance).
> 
> Also, while I will again single out Kittyhawk and her Nick Shepard for being largely at fault for this, I will add that another part was that I had the thought for Ani's name and it just…stuck with me for some reason. So here's the thing.
> 
> Oh and hey, look at that, this is my first ever completed chapterfic! Well, damn.
> 
> Happy Shepard's Birthday, everyone! <33


End file.
